Hey There Delilah
by TheQuinzelInTheCrowd
Summary: Prowling the city at night, rebuking evil and protecting the innocent was her passion. But it was lonely. But when she meets the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, it doesn't become so lonely any more. Actually, it becomes quite enjoyable.[Matt/OC]
1. Chapter 1

Her heart pumped in her chest as her foot collided with the thug's chest with all the force she could muster. She smirked triumphantly as he groaned on impact, falling backwards and landing heavy on his back. This was her chance. The thug was a hulking mass compared to her; she was tiny, delicate at first glance – but quick and punishing with her fists. Perhaps growing up in Hell's Kitchen had helped. She had been reared in a busy foster home belonging to her Grandmother, Mary Kavanagh. Mary had been a small, robust woman with a temper as fiery as the red of her hair. But in her twilight years Mary's hair had gone a wispy white; whereas her spirit and stubbornness had remained as unyielding at it always had.

Her mother had died in 9/11, when she had been eleven. Her father had been a cop, who had been run down a year later. She was left alone with her Grandmother. Her Grandmother was a proud Catholic who had come over from the green isle of Ireland in her late teens. There she had married her grandfather, another Irish emigrate who had come over from the country, where she had been from the city. Michael Kavanagh had worked in a butcher's shop and had sliced himself one day. He died of infection weeks later.

She felt the rain fall in sheets from the sky, her throat tight as she panted and her chest tight as it struggled for air. She hadn't stopped all night, ramming down petty criminals and thug's as they went around their putrid business in the cesspool she called home. It was home. That's why she was fighting for it. Fighting to keep her home safe from the pitiful human beings threatening to rip it apart; everyone else in Hell's Kitchen seemed oblivious to what they were doing.

"Pretty little fighter," someone drawled behind her, and she gasped as thick, muscular arms wrapped themselves around her neck, blocking her windpipe. She scrambled, clawing at the black leather of his arms.

She reacted quickly; much quicker than she would've a year ago, when she started self-defence and martial arts. She wasn't sure why she had begun – maybe she was tired of cowering as she walked home at night and tired of being scared.

"Don't struggle; it only hurts more." The bastard had the nerve to laugh.

To laugh _–_ as he choked _her to death._

She had had enough of his playful banter. Her legs viciously vaulted her off the ground, and she swung backwards, her body flipping. The man gasped with surprise as she ripped herself from his grasp and her legs firmly wrapped themselves around his neck as she came to a stop. The grip her legs had around the brute's throat reminded of a boa constrictor, like the dangerous snake, she planned on suffocating the thug. He made a guttural noise and began to fall as he succumbed to blackness and fell unconscious. She lightly jumped from his shoulders as he fell onto his face onto the wet slick ground, his face splitting open and his blood running free, staining the dark ground a darker red. The pool of rainwater he lay in darkened as his blood formed billowing clouds in the substance.

Her breathing was ragged, her heart pounding as she fell to her knees in the rain. The cold drops that made the ground glimmer and glisten seeped inside, freezing her knees as the rain continued to fall. It fell down in a bead as she panted, her dark hair sticking to her face. She felt like she had just walked up from the ocean where she had been swimming for days. Her leather jacket was covered in drops of rain, heavy and slick with the rain it had been deflecting all night. Her jeans were soaked and stuck to her like a second skin. Her fingers were raw and numb, the tips a burning red. She took a deep breath as her heart beat began to become steady and looked toward the black sky. It was calm, kneeling here, looking up at the jet black, inky sky. The rain came down in tendrils, like fingers reaching down from above.

She closed her eyes, feeling serene and calm as she caught her breath and the tendrils washed over her face. Without thinking, her face raised to the heavens, she clamped her hands together in prayer.

"St Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle. Be our protection against the malice and snares of the devil," She whispered, clamping her hands together in a tight ball, "may god rebuke him, we humbly pray. And do you, O Prince of the heavenly host, by the divine power, thrust into hell Satan and all evil spirits who prowl the world, seeking the ruin of souls. Amen." She finished, blessing herself as she gave a silent thanks to whoever up there had watched over her, and helped her survive the night.

"Haven't heard someone say that in years." A voice said, and her limbs went rigid. She thanked whoever was still looking down on her that she was still wearing the neoprene mask. She rose slowly and stiffly turned to him. The person standing behind her was at medium height, dressed entirely in black and wearing a mask, obscuring his nose and eyes only.

"Well you should start hanging around the more Catholic areas of the kitchen." She drawled, and he chuckled.

"Maybe I should. I'm pretty sure I already am, however." He replied coolly and she snorted.

"Whatever you say." She replied cockily, but the man tilted his head to the side. "You should move him; he's waking up." The man said calmly and she looked up to find the man stirring.

She angrily kicked his face, and the thug went limp again. "Thank yo-" She was cut off to find the man was gone, like sand in a desert wind.

But more like the devil of Hell's Kitchen.


	2. Chapter 2

The house was still. It wasn't really a house, it was a duplex. The duplex was practically silent except for the gentle, rumbling snores of Jackson and Derek. They were both two kids who had been sleeping rough on the street when Alicia had found them. The sun trickled in through her windows, the curtains drawn to the side and the window semi-open from when Alicia had fallen in from her night's patrol less than two hours ago. The suns powerful, vengeful rays shone through, blinding Alicia, who lay tangled in the bedsheets.

The woman sighed and suppressed a groan of pain as she rolled to the opposite side of the bed, and lifted her tired sore limbs from the soft, inviting bed. The double bed dominated most of the room with the small wardrobe forced into the corner. There she stood, barely able to stand in the small space her between the edge of the bed and wardrobe. She opened one of the drawers on the right side of the storage and pulled out fresh clothes. Her ones from the other night were soaking, creating a growing puddle in the corner of her room, where she had stripped them off and had tiredly flung the articles uncaring into the corner, and fell into the bed, naked except for her under-garments. Alicia had been too tired to bother finding night clothes.

' _Times like this I'm happy I've no one to impress,'_ she thought bitterly in her head as she caught sight of her revolting reflection. Her sandy brown hair was plastered to her face and matted from the rain last night. Her eye make-up (which she hadn't bothered removing before going out to fight crime, of course) had ran, staining her face and giving her the look of a disgruntled china doll whose owner had discovered a box of crayons. Alicia stared into her tired, big green eyes one final time before sighing exasperatedly, and began to pull on her clothes.

A few moments later she slid into the kitchen, a bounce forced into her step. Derek and Jackson were still asleep; Alicia wasn't sure either of them had seen a clock at seven o'clock in the morning. She chuckled quietly at the thought as she carefully began to prepare her small breakfast. She hadn't even noticed the red, blinking light of her answering machine as she sat down at the island, beginning to munch on buttery toast. Alicia had been downstairs twenty minutes and had managed to forcibly untangle her hair with the help of a rough hand equip with a comb when she noticed it. She frowned.

' _No one calls the house phone,'_ the young woman thought, pressing down on the button for voicemail.

A female's voice wafted from the speakers.

"Hello, this is Miss Page from Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law," The woman spoke, and Alicia couldn't deny the worry she felt at the word law, but continued the listen nonetheless, "I just wanted to see if you'd be willing to speak to Mr. Nelson and Mr. Murdock, concerning Everett Dawson? But you're obviously not home right now, so I'll, um, call back later."

The woman awkwardly trailed off and hung up. Alicia smiled, but that smile soon faded when she remembered poor Everett Dawson. Everett had been staying with her for six months, and had only left three weeks ago when he had been done in for serious assault.

Alicia was one of two counsellors at the local centre, focusing primarily on disadvantaged teens/young adults. Everett had been a regular, speaking of how he had fallen in with a rough crowd from a young age, and how he didn't have anywhere to turn to. That's where Alicia shouldn't have opened her fat mouth; but she had. _Oh come live with me,_ she said, _my house is big enough,_ she said. Alicia was still mentally kicking herself to that day. It wasn't that she didn't like Everett; he was a good kid, with a good heart, but had an unfortunate temper. It was just that after her Grandmother's unexpected death she had sworn not to take in any kids. Not to make the same mistakes the old woman had, yet she did.

Alicia sighed heavily, typing in the name of the Law firm the mysterious Miss Page had provided into safari on her phone, and the location of their base popped up. It wasn't far, she mused. Alicia slipped on her shoes as she pulled her long grey woollen overcoat on, which hung just above her knees. Rolling the coat's sleeves to just below her elbows, she realised how odd she must've looked; a comfortable, camel turtle-neck knitted jumper, blue jaded jeans to her shins and wine heeled shoes.

 _'Why don't you just give me a sign screaming "THERAPIST! COME LISTEN TO MY BULLSHIT!"'_ She thought humorously as she grabbed her brown satchel and slipped out of the house.

Alicia stopped outside the looming, dark, Gothic church. It stood, watching the modern world grow around it as it still presided in a time gone by. It was nearly eight o'clock, and her local priest would probably be up by now. He was a close family friend; Father Seamus McClain, a huge man, at six foot two, his hair a silvery grey and his face outlined with deep wrinkles. His bushy eyebrows huge low over pale, watery blue eyes, which seemed to able to bore straight into your soul – he was terrifying at first glance, and all the local children were terrified of him and Alicia wouldn't lie; growing up, even she herself had been terrified of Father Seamus. His big loud booming voice, telling ten year old her how hell was no place for little girl's like herself.

But when her parents died she began to see him more often, and began to stop fighting so much when her Grandmother forced her to mass every Sunday. It became a ritual, something to keep her going every night when she realised when she got home her parents wouldn't be there. When she realised she'd never feel her father's calloused hands running through her hair again, or the musky, powdery scent her mother left when she brushed through a room. Church had become her sanctuary. She was in no way devout, but somehow felt more at ease when she slipped past the heavy oak doors like she did today into the cool, dark marble interior of the church. The church was eerie quiet, like it always was.

As Alicia walked her ears strained to hear the noise they strained to hear every time she entered this place of worship; she was nearly sure it was her imagination, or her ears playing tricks on her, but she was always convinced she could hear whispering. It whispered to her from the walls, trickled inside her ears, and floated around her mind. She never knew what the words whispered, but she knew they were there. She shook her head, focusing on the sharp steady sound of her heels on the hard, black marble floor as she put one foot in front of the other, drawing closer and closer to the white marble alter. Jesus stared forlornly from the altar, hanging limply from his large wooden crucifix, which dominated the stage. His painted body was skinny, bony and fragile.

 _He suffered for our sin._

 _He died for our sin._

And there she knelt – on her knees on the freezing cold marble, staring up at Jesus's sad but blank expression, his eyes painted brown circles with messy dabs of black in the middle. The right pupil looked far toward the door, while the left looked down depressingly on Alicia as she looked up at him, her mind working. She often thought about deeply, about god, her sins, her existence.

"Alicia?" A voice roused her from her thought as she looked to her right, where the good Father Seamus was exiting, preparing for the day's confessions and services.

She quickly scrambled to her feet as the priest toddled over, his lanky frame long and menacing, but his blue eyes open and kind.

"Alicia would you ever stop kneeling on the cold floor and sit on a pew for pity's sake!" He grumbled playfully, furrowing his brows as he gestured to a pew. Alicia laughed, shaking her head.

"No, no Father – I'm busy. I'd like to, er, give confession and then leave, if that's alright with you." She explained, and the old man nodded.

"Of course, whenever you're ready." He kindly said, tottering off.

Alicia slipped into the oak confessional, kneeling down in front of the screen.

She blessed herself, "Forgive me father for I have sinned," She began as Father Seamus slid the divider across, revealing the grate separating them. She avoided his face as she continued,

"It's been…four weeks since my last confession. I have taken my lord's name in vain. I have coveted, many a time. I have been prideful in my accomplishments and lustful for violence," She mumbled. Alicia hadn't realised until last night how comfortable she had been with lashing out, using her fists and strength rather than her logic and intelligence. Using brute force rather than the power of words. When she had kicked that man in the face, she had been given an almost fix. A fix she didn't realise she needed.

Father Seamus nodded thoughtfully as she continued, "I've been filled with wrath, for many years now, as you know…" She admitted, anger flashing across her mind as she thought of – Alicia shook her head, shaking the memory away before it could sink its depressing, sorrowful talons into her mind.

"I went out again last night. Like I do every night - I thought I could stop but it's like-"

"-An addiction." Seamus said finally, and Alicia hung her head in disappointment and embarrassment.

"Yeah," she said quietly, "like an addiction. They used to say; Kavanaghs will show you what stubbornness looks like. My grandmother used to say we were the stupidest lot of arseholes she'd ever seen, never knowing when to walk away from an argument, always having to have the last word, right or wrong; but we're her bunch of arseholes," Alicia laughed, and the priest chuckled.

"I'm scared, father." The laughter and lightness of the atmosphere quickly slipped away as the priest's face turned serious.

"Of what, my child?" He asked kindly, and Alicia stared down at her hands, which were balled together so tightly her skin was red with strain.

"I'm scared I don't know what it means to be a good person anymore. I'm scared I shouldn't be doing this anymore, going out every night. I'm worried that I'll hurt others before this addiction finally eats me whole." She admitted, pressing her head lamely against the cool grate.

"Trust God, Alicia, trust him. He will see you right. If it is your duty to keep the people of our streets safe, you will succeed. If it is not; he will send a sign. He will see you right." The priest promised, and Alicia sighed. She knew she was asking too much of the priest, asking for too many answers for impossible questions he couldn't answer.

"Thank you, father," she finally muttered, "thank you for listening."

' _Thank you, but you didn't help me at all.'_

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I don't know if anyone's actually reading this, but I'm going to keep it up anyway for myself because I really enjoy writing it, and I hope someone enjoys reading it. I promise that not all the chapters are going to be so heavily religious and filled with Catholicism; I just wanted to establish how much it plays a part in how Alicia thinks. Alicia isn't in any way devout, but her faith is a coping mechanism, like I think it is with a lot of people. Also, to avoid confusion; if a chapter is entirely referring to Alicia as "she" and "her" and never by her name she's out prowling and fighting evil so to speak. She starts to view "Alicia" as her persona after a while, like a masked costume. Okay, sorry to go all psychological on that! Thanks anyway if you took the time to read this, and I hope to write some more. Thank you and goodbye~**


	3. Chapter 3

The office of Nelson and Murdock wasn't much. It seemed they were only starting out Alicia thought as she stepped inside, self-consciously pushing her limp ponytail over her shoulder. The colour scheme was pale and the room consisted of three offices. In between the two of the offices sat a desk, which a pretty blonde woman was sitting at. She was busy flicking through paperwork when Alicia politely cleared her throat.

"Uh, my name is Alicia. Alicia Kavanagh, you called me last night?" She said formally, and the woman jumped. The woman, Miss Page, stood quickly and smiled at Alicia, who smiled tightly back.

"I'm sorry! I didn't see you! Hello, my name is Karen, Karen Page. Foggy and- excuse me, Mr Nelson and Mr Murdock aren't in yet, but you're welcome to wait. Please…sit, er, on a box." Karen said, looking awkward as she gestured to one of the boxes in the corner. Alicia chuckled lightly as she gently planted herself on a strong box, trying to support her weight on her legs and rather on the box.

"I'm telling you, that paralegal, she-" A cocky voice and its owner were silenced as two men entered the office. The owner was a medium height man, with long sandy hair that brushed his shoulders. He wasn't fat, but he wasn't thin.

"Miss Page," Another man's voice called, and Alicia felt her attention turn from the long haired man to the other.

He was about the same height, with well-kempt dark hair. He was good looking, to Alicia anyway, handsomely dark. But his most striking feature was the circular glasses he wore; the lenses tinted a dark red. Another striking thing was that, well, he was blind.

"Is this Miss Kavanagh?" He asked calmly and quietly, Karen nodded.

"Yes, Matt, this is Alicia. She's come to talk about Everett Dawson; if that's alright with her." The secretary added, and Alicia nodded. She mentally kicked herself, realising the man, Matt, she was primarily addressing, was blind. Alicia rose, and extended a hand to the other man.

"Hi, I'm Alicia Kavanagh. Happy to be here." She smiled, greeting the sandy haired man. He returned the smile, shaking her hand.

"Uh, thank you for coming. My name is Foggy, Foggy Nelson, and this is my colleague, Matt Murdock." The man, Foggy introduced.

"Miss Kavanagh, would you like to step inside?" Matt Murdock asked politely, gesturing to the office on the right.

"Yeah, thanks." She mumbled as Foggy stepped forward, opening the door and slipped in. Alicia nodded thanks to him before she too stepped inside, and watched as Matt led himself inside.

"Please, sit down." Foggy said as he pulled a chair for her. Alicia felt herself smile as she sat, clasping her hands together as the two men sat opposite and Karen sat at the end of the table with a yellow legal pad. She heard someone press play on a tape record, and the interview began.

"Miss Kavanagh, can you please tell us how you came to know our client, Mr Dawson?" Matthew asked, and she nodded, still staring at her hands. _'Here goes nothing.'_

"Everett had it pretty rough growing up. I work as a counsellor to kids who maybe don't have anyone else to turn to, or come from pretty shitty backgrounds," she began, "Everett came to me pretty regularly. His Mom had died when he was young and his Dad wasn't around much. He sort've relied on me to help his moral I suppose. When he did well in school, let alone went to school, I'd cheer him on. When he had games, like basketball or football or whatever, I'd show interest. That's what these kids need sometimes, just someone to show interest, you know?" She said, finally looking up. Foggy nodded, but Matt simply stared on ahead at the wall behind her.

"Anyway, like I said, Everett had it pretty rough. He fell in with a bad crowd and when he, well, fell out with them he needed a place to go. I live in a pretty big place so I said he could stay with me until he could work something out. He's been with me for, I don't know, six months tops. He only left three weeks ago, when he was arrested for assaulting that girl, Sarah." Alicia finished. News of Everett's alleged attack on a judge's daughter, Sarah Hanley, was all over the news. Alicia wasn't sure how she felt.

"How would describe Everett, as a person?" Foggy asked, and Karen began to scrawl on her legal pad.

"Everett was a good person, he was smart. He was respectful and quite pleasant. He was sensitive, though. Overly, sometimes – he gets easily angry. Quick to violence rather than quick to resolving a situation with words; look, I don't think Everett could have – or would have – done it." She stated, the man, Matt, finally looking at her. Alicia cringed slightly, her stomach twisting as he seemed to look straight into her eyes and see something Alicia didn't want him to. She couldn't tell through those glasses. Alicia wouldn't deny the growing feeling of attraction she was feeling toward the dark haired attorney, but also felt slight worry – she shook her head.

"Miss Kavanagh, thank you for your time." Murdock finally said, and Alicia nodded, surprised.

"Oh, okay. Hope I could, eh, help." She stuttered, slightly hurt at his bluntness. Foggy and Karen blinked, but Alicia stood, shouldering her bag from where she had disposed it on the ground and quickly left the office.

"What the hell, Matt? She could've been useful." Foggy complained as Karen left the room, showing Alicia out. Matt didn't look up toward Foggy as he explained himself.

"She was scared. Her heart beat grew faster when I looked at her; she kept trying to stress the fact that Everett wouldn't hurt anyone. She hardly spoke about the weeks he was with her. Alicia Kavanagh knows more than she's letting on." Matt explained as he stood and left the office, following Alicia. Foggy sighed heavily as Karen quietly re-entered the room, smirking.

"So; Alicia, good looking with questionable character?" Karen laughed.

Foggy rolled his eyes, "Why do you think Matt went after her faster than a sinner when the doors of Hell open?" He asked, chuckling.

Alicia was walking quickly down the sidewalk, trying to avoid thinking about the odd confrontation she had just experienced.

"Miss Kavanagh." A familiar voice called, and she turned on her heel – and nearly walked straight into Matt Murdock.

"Oh my god I am so sorry! I didn't mean to I jus -"

"– My apologises, I didn't mean to startle you." He said, and Alicia shook her head.

"No, it's my fault. I shouldn't have been so clumsy." She sighed, and Matt smiled.

"Miss Kavanagh, I don't mean to be forward, but I was wondering; could you tell me the information you kept from Foggy and me?" He asked, and Alicia's mouth fell open. _'Thank god he can't see the stupid look on my face.'_ Alicia thought happily.

She closed her mouth, and replied, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have kept it from you guys, I just wasn't sure if I could trust you. But, I guess there's no point lying. There was a visitor to Everett a week before the assault. He said he was a cop. But…he didn't seem like he was following any laws, you know?" She said, and Matt nodded, "anyway, Everett seemed pretty shook after it. Maybe they could've been involved? I don't know." Alicia lamely said, and Matt nodded.

"Would you care to discuss this further, maybe over coffee?" The blind man suddenly said, and Alicia's lips curled upwards in a devious smile.

"Oh, I see. You call a girl a liar then ask her for coffee – interesting strategy, how's it working?" Alicia asked teasingly, and Matt chuckled.

"I don't know, why don't you tell me your answer and we'll find out?" He replied, smirking. Alicia laughed, throwing her head back and felt an undeniable tug on her interest.

* * *

"We've been here three hours." Matt suddenly said, and Alicia looked up, dumb-struck. She laughed, checking her phone. He was right; three hours they had been sitting in the café across from Nelson and Murdock. It had seemed like minutes to her. Matt Murdock wasn't all he seemed to be; he told Alicia the story of how he went blind in the car accident and the chemicals. Alicia had proclaimed him a hero, but he had shrugged her off casually and humbly.

She had told him about her parents. She had expected the next topic.

"What about your Grandmother?" He asked - the conversation about the time they wasted long forgotten. Alicia was silent for a moment, staring down at the half empty mug of tea in her hands.

"How did you…?" She asked, looking up at him.

He stared at her for a moment, "Foggy looked into where Everett was staying, which is with you. Your Grandmother lived there, no?" He explained, and Alicia nodded.

"I just nodded, by the way," she added, and Matt chuckled.

"Anyway, yeah, my Grandmammy owned the house. If Mr Foggy Nelson did his research you already know what happened." She replied shortly, and Matt removed his glasses to reveal his eyes. Alicia looked up in surprise as he folded them and gently laid them on the table. She ignored the way her toes curled and her stomach flipped when she saw his eyes; they were the colour of dark, browning moss.

"We heard what the media said. But I'd like to hear your version of what happened." He said quietly, staring directly at her.

"Why does it matter?" Alicia whispered.

He hesitated before replying, "It matters because it matters to you." He gently murmured, and she felt her cheeks burn red.

"My Grandmammy used to have a lot of kids staying with her. More than I do, anyway. Five at a time excluding myself – there was one guy, Joseph. Joseph had been in a gang, a really bad one. They came for him one day and my Grandmammy wouldn't step aside. So they shot her. I…I still remember coming home and seeing her. She was sitting on the top step, leaning against the doorframe. She was just sitting there…like she was asleep. You wouldn't have guessed anything was wrong expect for the big red hole the bullet left in the middle of her forehead." Alicia muttered, wiping her stinging eyes.

"I- I'm sorry for your loss." Matt empathically said. She shook her head, leaning back in her seat.

"It was a good while ago. Never saw Joseph again, gave her ashes to the wind at Ellis Island, like she wanted. I moved on. What about you, Matthew Murdock. Sure your Dad was Battlin' Jack Murdock, the one and only." She said with a sense of awe in her voice.

"Yeah, that's my dad. Lost more fights than he won." Matt laughed, and Alicia smiled.

"Still, man was a legend. I am sorry about that, as well, though. He didn't deserve that," Alicia said quietly as she carefully placed her hand over Matt's. She shivered slightly as their skin brushed and Matt smiled slightly.

"Walk me home?" Alicia she asked quietly and the attorney asked the waitress for the bill.

* * *

She watched the city from her perch in the shadows. It was thankfully a dry evening; the previous night's showers tired and had wasted its tears on drowning her the night before. She was angry with herself; she couldn't stop herself thinking of Matt Murdock. Sweet, polite and respectful Matt Murdock who she was utterly crushing on – she mentally wanted to kick herself.

' _Goddammit, woman, pull yourself together.'_ She growled to herself mentally as she stood and began to slowly walk along the edge of the building. Hell's Kitchen lay below her at her feet. It was peaceful; the sounds of traffic and police sirens muted this far up. The streets below were stained yellow from the towering street lights, cars racing through the streets, each like a thread of a spider's web which created New York City.

There was the slightest noise behind her, "I didn't think I'd see you again." She said, turning on her heel to find the man in the mask, the devil of Hell's Kitchen standing behind her for the second night in a row.

"Were you happy about that?" He said with a forced gravelly texture to his voice.

"No, not particularly, I wanted to see you again. I wanted to know what you're doing, dressed up." She asked, gracefully jumping down from her position on the edge.

"I think I'm doing the same thing you are. Protecting the innocent, taking care your home." He gruffly said, and she chuckled.

"Well, you certainly have me sussed." She laughed, adjusting her neoprene mask.

"Didn't your parents teach you not to talk to strangers?" He asked, and she shrugged.

"I can handle myself, Mr Mysterious. I think last night would've proved that." She arrogantly stated, but the man merely stared at her. She didn't like the way she couldn't see his eyes – it made her uncomfortable by the fact the whole upper half of his face was obscured.

"That still doesn't mean you can't get hurt." He gruffly said. She couldn't stand his condescending manner, but at the same time couldn't take herself away from him.

"Yeah, whatever," She scoffed, walking toward the side of the building. There was hardly a leap between the building she sat on and the one that lay before her.

"See you around, masked man." She said, jumping to the other. She landed heavily on her feet, and turned back to look toward him. But he was already slipping away into the night.

' _See you around, Mr Mysterious…'_ She thought, walking home in the twilight.


	4. Chapter 4

Alicia unlocked her front door the following day, entering her home as the afternoon drew to a close and the city prepared to sleep. The house was silent except for the TV, which drifted from Jackson and Derek's room. She felt something under her foot and looked down to find a wad of white envelopes. _'Bills…bills…bills – wait.'_ Alicia frowned as she pulled a vanilla envelope out of the pile. It was from her Landlord. Her grandmother had been renting the house since Alicia's father was born, her son and Alicia had continued to. The duplex was rent controlled, her grandmother living here from the fifties onwards.

"' _We are writing to inform you that your duplex's Landlord has changed and is no longer under the care of one Miss Vanessa Trent, but rather Mr Armin Tully,'"_ Alicia read, worry clawing the pit of her stomach, "' _who wishes to convert your living space into condo's and would pay a sum of ten thousand dollars if you were willing to give up rent control and to vacate the premises. Regards, Landman and Zach.'"_

"Oh god…" She muttered, dropping the bills and the letter to the floor. They slowly fell to the hard oak floor silently.

An hour later, after calling up Landman and Zack and denying their offer, she found herself sitting in the middle of her bed, watching the small TV in the corner. It was some stupid soap opera she was half paying attention to, but it was keeping her worried thoughts at bay about the rent issue when her phone began to violently buzz on her bed side locker. The theme song of Star Wars filled the room as she jumped up and grabbed the phone, slamming her finger down on answer.

"Hello?" She politely answered, flopping back down on the bed.

"Hello, Alicia?" Matt Murdock asked and she felt her stomach flip at the sound of the attorney's smooth voice. She could still remember when he walked her to her door;

 _The Night Previous_

"Well, this is me," She said, pulling her coat closer as she looked up the steps toward her dark green front door. Matt had obligingly walked her home and Alicia couldn't deny; she had enjoyed it. "Thank you for walking me home, Matt." Alicia added as she began to ascend the steps – but Matt reached out and grabbed her wrist. She turned to him, her lips slightly parted, surprised.

"I was just wondering if I could get your number, in case we need to talk again," he said, "about Everett, of course." Matt quickly added. Alicia had smirked and willingly took his phone from him. She quickly typed her phone number and contact name in, pressing save.

"To talk about Everett, of course," She repeated knowingly and Murdock had laughed almost nervously. Alicia wasn't sure why she had done it, but without thinking – she leaned down and gently kissed his cheek.

"See you around, Murdock." Alicia called as she walked up to her door, unlocked it and began to slip inside.

"In a while, Kavanagh."

Presently, Alicia felt her cheeks burn as she sighed contently, like a teenage girl at the memory.

"Oh, hey Matt," she said, trying to sound nonchalant, but secretly overjoyed that he had called, "everything okay?" She asked casually.

"Everything's fine; we had a client today, and to cut a long story short they're having some difficulties with their landlord, Armin Tully – I was looking up other property he owned and I found out he recently came into control of yours. I was just calling to make sure everything was okay." He said with a tinge of concern in his voice. It took everything Alicia had not to go weak at the knees at his concern.

"Don't worry about it Matt, I'm a big girl, I can fight my own battles. He offered me money, but I didn't accept. Too much history in the house, you know?" She replied, scrambling under the covers and clicking off the TV.

"Just be careful. And you always know a pair of decent lawyers if you need them." He chuckled and Alicia laughed lightly.

"Decent, really? You're too modest." She mumbled teasingly as she tried to suppress a yawn – and failed miserably.

"Goodnight, Matt Murdock." She said softly, and there was a pause before his voice came through the line.

"Goodnight, Alicia Kavanagh." He said in response, and the woman hung up. Alicia sighed happily as she leaned over, and placing her phone on the bedside table, and finally turned off the light, accomplishing her goal of getting an extra early night.

She was thrown awake by the sudden and colossal, echoing boom of an explosion. The wall crumpled, the walls nearly obliterated entirely. Alicia felt dry wall and debris fall onto her bed, and the wardrobe fell suddenly and unexpectedly. Alicia scrambled up, hopping hurriedly off the bed and her feet screamed in pain as sharp, jutting pieces dug into her soles and caused them to bleed. The wardrobe fell with a bang as the smell of smoke filled the room and all the nearby fire alarms began to screech.

"Miss K!" Someone yelled, and Derek burst into the room. The front of his grey hoodie was dark, stained with the foreboding colour of blood.

"Derek, where's Jackson!?" Alicia demanded as she shoved her feet into trainers.

"He's been hurt, something fell on him – the blood's his." Derek explained, worry dancing in his eyes.

"We have to get him outta here." Alicia insisted, running into the guest bedroom. There Jackson lay on the top bunk where a piece of the ceiling had fell in and struck his head. The bleeding was heavy, and soaked over her t-shirt as she examined the wound.

"I'll take the arms, Miss K, and you take the legs." Derek said as they pulled Jackson off the bunk and down onto the ground. The pair grunted, lifting the heavy teen between them, and began to stumble down the stairs. Alicia tried not to cry as she took in the damage the explosion had done to her house, her family's home for years – her grandmother had lived here with her husband, Alicia's father with his wife; she was supposed to live here with whoever she settled down here with, and raise a family. That's how it was supposed to be. But now as she gazed at her house, in tatters and crumbling apart, she knew it never would.

Casting her sorrows aside she opened the front door and the duo quickly got out of the now burning house – the explosion had come from the abandoned building adjoined to her house, and had totally annihilated the house. They lay Jackson on the side walk, Derek using the sleeve of his hoodie in an attempt to stop Jackson's bleeding as police cars pulled up, followed by an ambulance.

Forty minutes later, and the police were finished their questioning.

"You've a place to stay?" One of them gruffly asked, and without thinking, she nodded.

"Yeah, I do." Alicia lied and the cop shrugged, returning to the car.

Where the hell was she going to go?

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **This chapter was dedicated to the reader bambieisavenging who encouraged me to keep writing this! Thank you everyone who is reading and I really hope you enjoyed the chapter!**


	5. Chapter 5

Alicia sat in A&E – Jackson had been taken in, and they promised they would do their best to make sure he was seen to.

"Miss K…you've been hurt." Derek's voice pulled her from her trance. She frowned, and he gently pulled back her hoodie to reveal a deep red stain, growing darker and wider.

"Oh," Alicia said, dazed, "so that's what the pain was." She responded casually and Derek called for help.

"Alicia?" A voice called, and she looked up to find Karen Page standing over her. Miss Page's eyes widen with concern when she noticed the other woman's wound.

"Oh my god – are you alright?" Karen asked, brushing a blonde strand of hair behind her ear.

"I'm fine," Alicia mumbled, and then it struck her – Matt, blind Matt who could be lying hurt somewhere.

"What about Matt, is he okay?" Alicia asked as a nurse arrived with a stretcher and two Doctor's tried to lie her down. She resisted, grabbing Karen's arm.

"Matt – Karen is he okay?" Alicia demanded as she felt herself being pushed down, "I don-" Karen began, but a Doctor removed Alicia's grip from the other woman.

"-I'm sorry we really need to get her in." He insisted, his name tag reading Dr R Leonetti. Sighed, nodding as they began to pull Alicia away. An hour later, Alicia found herself in a hospital gown with her side stitched up and bandaged. She had texted Matt, called him and left a dozen voice messages on his voice mail. She tried not to panic, but she continued deny how much she cared about the attorney. So much so she was willing to badger him until Alicia made sure he was okay. Something she had achieved yet.

"Goddammit, Matthew…" She growled softly, laying her head back against the pillow.

Tears came involuntarily; everything seemed to be coming together. Alicia had a home, she thought maybe she could start something with Matt – but for all she knew she had nothing now. Her home was gone, years of family memories slipping away between her fingers and generations of history crumbling away in the flames. Now Alicia was homeless, without anything – what they managed to save from the building was in a large police rucksack at the bottom of the bed. It was mostly clothes, a pair of shoes and a family photo album. The rest they claimed wouldn't have been worthwhile to go in after. Now Matt was gone, Jackson was in a bad way and Derek probably didn't trust her anymore.

She had promised shelter to those kids; make sure they were safe from the dangers the streets would offer and to make sure they could have a chance at something better.

"Miss K," Jackson's voice croaked, and Alicia looked to the bed on her right. The curtain was drawn back to reveal Jackson, his head bandaged and his blonde curls sticking up in every direction. "What happened?" He asked, and Alicia wiped her face hurriedly.

"There was an explosion, hit a few different places in Hell's Kitchen apparently." She explained and the young man nodded, closing his eyes and nodding off. Her eyes fell on the TV screen in the corner, where the news was on. It showed a man dressed entirely in black, his eyes covered – the devil of Hell's Kitchen.

"Holy fuck…" Alicia muttered, painfully sitting up. The caption claimed the Devil had assaulted police officers and had – had been responsible for the explosions, destroying dozens of people's homes and injuring more.

Alicia's palm slapped her forehead; "Stupid…stupid…" She muttered tiredly, cursing herself for being so dumb. Alicia should've seen and should've stopped him the last time they met.

"You should be resting." A Nurse insisted, entering the room. The male Nurse picked up a needle from his tray and walk toward her, "No, no…I need to go." Alicia stated, but he pushed her back against the bed.

"No. You need to get resting." He ordered as he uncapped the needle and gently injected her. Alicia felt her eyelids droop and her limbs become heavy as she slipped into the black.

Alicia groaned as she tried to pull her eyes open, and painfully unstuck them. The weak morning light leaked in from the window as Alicia tried to turn her stiff neck.

"You're awake. Finally." Matt's voice said, and ignoring the creaking in her neck she looked toward her left, where he sat. "Where the hell were you last night!?" She demanded angrily, crossing her arms furiously.

He sighed, "I'm sorry, I forgot my phone in the office last night." He explained and she felt her anger ebb.

"It's okay," she sighed, "I was just really worried, Matt. I thought something happened." Alicia admitted, gazing up at the attorney.

"Again, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worry. I heard about your home…I can only imagine." He said kindly as he gently placed his hand over hers, which was lying by her side on the bed.

"What about you, did you get out of it easy? Except for, well, that on your face." Alicia murmured her other hand reaching up, its fingers trailing across the side of his face.

"I walked into something." He assured her and she nodded.

"Yeah, I walked into the debris of my wall." Alicia laughed, and then cringed in pain as it rocketed through her from her side.

"I take it you can't go home." Matt said, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of her hand.

"Yep – and now I'm worrying again." She said, chuckling bitterly.

"You can stay with me." Matt suddenly promised, and Alicia blinked.

"I don't want to invade, really. I'll find somewhere." Alicia quickly said, but Matt shook his head.

"No, you wouldn't be invading, honestly. I wouldn't be asking if you were." Matt assured her, and she smiled.

"You don't really know me, though. I'd honestly be so relived but," Alicia began, heat rising from her ears toward her cheeks.

"I don't want to invade personal-" Matt raised a finger to his lips, and she shut her mouth hurriedly.

"Alicia, you're rambling. Please, just trust me." He begged, and Alicia nodded.

"Oh, I just nodded a yes, by the way." She added, embarrassed. Matt Murdock smiled.

And that's how Alicia found herself inside Matt Murdock's apartment with her rucksack of possessions.

"Make yourself at home." The attorney told her as he walked into the kitchen, rooting around for something. Alicia padded over to the window and was practically blinded by the huge electronic billboard on the building opposite. _'Wouldn't bother a blind guy, I suppose.'_ Alicia thought to herself as she heard the man himself walk up behind her.

"Here." He said, holding out a bottle of beer to her.

"Thank you." Alicia said quietly, taking the open bottle.

"You can have my bed; I'll stay on the couch." Matt explained as he sat down on the couch and Alicia sighed, sitting on the armchair across from him,

"Are you sure? I don't want to put too much of a fuss but really I can live with the billboard." She insisted, but Matt shook his head.

"No, no – seriously, take the bed." Matt pleaded.

Alicia laughed, "Fine – where's the bathroom?" She asked politely, and Matt pointed over toward the bedroom where a door sat in the corner.

"Just in through there. There's a pack of spare tooth brushes under the sink." The young man told her.

"Okay, thanks." She nodded, and carefully found her way around the apartment.

Twenty minutes later Alicia found herself in one of Matt's sweat pants, the waist-bands chords pulled as tightly as they could. She was happy one of the t-shirts the firemen had managed to salvage was one of her more well-fitting ones.

"Can you bring out the spare blanket and pillow?" Matt's voice called from the sitting room and Alicia happily obliged, trotting into the sitting room with armfuls of the large duvet and pillow – but then suddenly she tripped on the trailing bottoms of the sweat pants, and would've fallen flat on her face if it wasn't for Matt who made a dive and caught her before she fell.

"Probably should roll those up." He suggested and she gasped, nodding.

"Yeah...thank you for catching me." She whispered.

"No problem. I'll see you tomorrow, Alicia." Matt said, nodding and awkwardly throwing the blankets and pillow onto the bed. Alicia smiled, beginning to turn away but then something struck her, and her smile spread into a smirk.

"Matt? Would you mind if I called you Matty?" She asked cheekily and the attorney laughed heartily.

"No, you can call me Matty. As long as I can call you Ali." He said, smirking.

It was Alicia's turn to laugh, "Alright Matty, you can call me Ali," She teased, pulling up the bottoms of the sweat pants as she began to trot into the bedroom.

"Goodnight, Matty." She called back to him and faintly heard a goodnight from Matt as she closed the door. An hour and a half later and Alicia was still awake. The neoprene mask had been a part of the items that had been salvaged and she was eager to get out of the apartment and go find the masked man – and rip his throat out. She had changed her clothes and put her shoes on when she had closed the room.

She quietly slipped into the sitting room to find the couch empty; maybe he'd gone to the bathroom? Alicia quietly but quickly padded to the front door and opening it silently, she slipped out the door.

* * *

She had been on the roofs of Hell's Kitchen for two hours now and there was no sign of the Masked Man. He'd obviously chosen to avoid her tonight – he was right to. She heard a noise behind her and looked back to find one of the many thug's that thrived at night grinning like a fool behind her.

"God bless you – today wasn't a good day to screw with me." She snarled, and the grin fell from his face as she viciously leaped forward, her iron like fist colliding with his nose. The thug gave a cry of pain as he kneeled over and she brutally kneed him in the stomach. He cried out as he fell down to his knees.

"It's rather pathetic, isn't it?" A smooth, calm voice intervened behind her.

She turned on her heel to find a tall, dark haired man, looking collected in a suit stand behind her. The city lights reflected in his glasses. She glared at him suspiciously, but grudgingly nodded.

"My employer has a problem." He said simply and she snorted.

"Why would I care?" She said shortly in response, and the man coldly chuckled, his hands folded formally.

"If you shared in our issue, we would pay rather handsomely. Perhaps we would even give you money to buy another duplex." He said calmly and she blinked, horrified.

"How do you know who I am?" She demanded, and he stared at her momentarily. A siren screamed in the distance.

"We've been watching you for a while, Miss Kavanagh, your coming's and going's," He replied coolly and she stared, angered. "Now – you undoubtedly want revenge on the person who destroyed your families heritage; the devil of Hell's Kitchen." He stated calmly, and she nodded fervently.

"So you're problem is the devil I take it? And if I bring him to you, you'll pay me?" She guessed, disbelieving.

The man nodded slowly, "If you become our full time, handler of situations like this, shall we say, and then we will continue to pay you handsomely." He explained, and she thought for a moment before nodding.

"I'll do it. Bring you the devil. He deserves what he gets for hurting people like that." She growled, and the man scoffed slightly, but said no more as he turned, walking away.

"We will be seeing a lot more of each other I hope." He called over his shoulder, and disappeared into the night.

Alicia looked up from her position in the bed. She'd gotten in around half two to find Matt still asleep and returned to the bed. Her phone read five A.M. Alicia peered into the sitting room to find Matt lying on the couch, and in a spur of the moment, she padded over and gently slid in beside him. Pulling the blanket over herself she felt Matt's arms tighten around her and pull her close into his side.

Alicia smiled, allowing sleep to creep up on her and she succumbed, falling into a heavy sleep.

She slept better than she had in a long time, lying there in Matt Murdock's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning, Alicia sat at the kitchen table. The newspaper was open in front of her on the classified section and her eyes eagerly wandered over the text looking for a reasonable apartment when she noticed it. The credit card that laid on the table beside her, with a woman's name – "Claire Temple." She read, and couldn't deny the anger rising within her.

"Matt? Matty!" She yelled, standing up and walking toward him as the man himself walked into the room.

"What's wrong?" He asked with concern etched on his features. Alicia stopped, a hand angrily on her hip as she replied.

"Who the hell is Claire Temple? And why did she leave her credit card here? Are you leading me on with another woman on the side Matthew Murdock? Because I'm not bloody having that!" Alicia growled and Matt's expression softened as he laid his hands on her shoulders.

"Alicia – Claire is just a friend. Honestly; I'm blind, I walk into a lot of things and sometimes I get hurt. Claire is a doctor, and she patches me up sometimes." Matt explained gently and Alicia pouted slightly, handing him the card.

"Fine – but if it's a few cuts and bruises, I want to be the only person to clean them up." She insisted, and Matt chuckled lightly.

"Bit possessive, don't you think?" The attorney asked her and blood rushed to her cheeks in embarrassment.

"I'm sorry." Alicia softly replied, biting her bottom lip.

"I didn't say it was a bad thing." Matt whispered and she felt her cheeks go a deeper red as he gently pressed his lips to her. Warmth flourished in the pit of her stomach and spread through her, her toes curling. They slowly pulled away and Alicia's jaw fell open, but she quickly snapped it shut.

"Oh, there's something I want to talk to you about," Alicia stated, pulling away from Matt and running toward the kitchen table. "There is an opening for an apartment, and it's not that bad price wise, it doesn't specific why but I'm sure whatever problem with it can be fixed." She said with excitement clear in her voice.

"Where is it?" Matt asked as he walked to the fridge behind her. Alicia read the address out and the attorney was silent for a moment, "Alicia you realise that's the apartment below me, yes?" He chuckled, raising an eyebrow. For the second time that morning, embarrassment flooded Alicia's features.

"Oh. I didn't realise that…would it be a problem, if I were to move in below?" She asked, biting the inside of her cheek – something she did when she was nervous, or deep in thought. Matt laughed.

"It's your life, and it's not my decision. I can ask the landlord can we have a look." He suggested as he placed the orange juice bottle down beside her elbow.

A devious smile crept onto her features, "Oh, so we're viewing apartments together now – how scandalous, what would the church say?" She teased and she could've sworn Matt rolled his eyes.

"They would say we were living in sin, but technically everyone that isn't married to each other in the building is." He replied as he filled his glass with orange juice. Alicia laughed – she hadn't realised how happy she was around Matt. He was easy to talk to, and she didn't feel like she was about to make an ass of herself – like she mostly thought. To be simple about it; she was totally comfortable around him. She shook her head.

"I see why you're an attorney then." Alicia replied as she skipped into the bedroom to get dressed.

"It's not as big as the ones upstairs because we split 'em into two for more tenants," the landlord told Alicia as he attempted to open the door. "Ya need to jiggle the lock and smack the part of the door right above it to open it." He explained, wheezing as he struggled with the door. With a clatter the door opened suddenly to reveal a medium sized sitting room. The windows were high and long; the large electric billboard that plagued Matt's sitting room was barely visible, and gave a weak light to the room. In the far corner lay the kitchen, it was small, but Alicia didn't want a big one. She wasn't anything like Gordon Ramsay, after all.

"Where's the bedroom?" Alicia asked politely and the man walked forward heavily, walking up the small step and opened the large, frosted sliding doors to reveal a small bedroom with a clean, fairly new Queen sized mattress sitting on the floor

. "Can't get enough of him, huh?" A voice said behind her and she jumped. Foggy Nelson chuckled lightly as Alicia turned on her heel to face him.

"My duplex exploded – I'd be living in his closet if that meant a roof over my head." Alicia replied, smirking.

"I'm sure that could be arranged." Foggy teased but Alicia shook her head, turning back to the landlord.

"It's perfect." She told him and the man nodded.

"Stop by the office when you're ready to have a look at the papers." He told her as he waddled out of the room.

Foggy watched him leave, "So you've migrated from Matt's closet to below him, I'm proud." Foggy said and Alicia rolled her eyes.

"It was one night, Mr Nelson. Besides, I am my own independent woman who can choose to live under any man's apartment as she pleases." Alicia explained and it was Foggy's turn to roll his eyes.

"I have a feeling I'm going to be seeing more of you, so please, just call me Foggy. See ya round, Alicia." He called as he turned, leaving Alicia alone in the open space.

A week later Alicia was in the apartment when the bell rang and standing from her recently bought couch, she ran to the door, opening it. There stood her next door neighbour, Mrs Whitmore.

"I'm sorry to bother you Alicia dear," the white haired woman said and Alicia smiled, "but there was a rather large package for you today." The woman informed her as she held out the large, rectangular white box.

Alicia frowned, "Thank you, Mrs Whitmore – I'm sorry, I wasn't excepting anything, I would've been in to receive had I known." Alicia promised and the elderly lady smiled.

"Not at all; gives me an excuse to come and socialise!" She insisted as she began to totter away to her apartment. Alicia watched to make sure she entered her apartment without difficulty, and then turned and shut the door.

' _But I didn't even order anything.'_ Alicia thought to herself, confused as she placed the box on the kitchen counter. Whatever was in it wasn't particularly heavy. The box was tied up with a fine, thick and shimmering deep red ribbon. Hesitantly, she undid the perfect bow at the bottom and slid the box open to reveal – black clothing. If she didn't know better, it'd be a 'superhero' costume. It was a full body black catsuit that covered her from the base of her neck to her ankles. Her hands went uncovered. It shined like it was wet in the light and was light and flexible. But it was strong; she could feel it. In the box there was also a black corset type article that covered her middle, emphasising her hourglass figure. Alicia rapped it with her fingers and flinched – it was strong. It was incredibly solid and she would be far from surprised if it deflected a bullet, let alone a knife.

She found black fingerless gloves in a small red velvet bag along with a black fitted mask. It hugged her face firmly, but not tightly, and covered from her eyebrows to the bottom of her cheekbones, leaving large triangles for the eyes to see through. Alicia's hand ran through the box, feeling the smooth fabric underneath her fingers when her fingertips felt the sharp corner of something. She picked it up with her index finger and thumb to reveal it was a card. Pulling it out she found neat black text typed on its expensive surface.

 _'The suit is a gift from your employer – we felt you were too unprotected to complete your task. The suit itself will deflect a knife; the corset will act as a bulletproof vest. We look forward to your success. With regards,_

 _Your employer.'_

Alicia froze, completely forgetting about the deal she had struck with the businessman on the roof that night. But her anger returned – if the devil of Hell's Kitchen destroyed those houses, he will pay.

"You will make him pay." Alicia told herself as she took the box into the bedroom to ready herself for that night's patrol.

Or rather, that night's manhunt.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **A special thank you to Shinigamidemidragonslayer99 whose kind words inspired me to write this chapter and post it so quickly. A huge thank you all those who are following the story and those who have added it to their favourite/follow list.**


	7. Chapter 7

She stood in the rain, waiting for him to make an appearance. He was silent like a shadow, not making any noise to sound his approach.

"I've been waiting for you. You know it's rude to leave a girl waiting in the rain." She drawled as he appeared by her side, seemingly looking down at the city below them.

"I didn't realise we had an appointment." He admitted and she turned to look directly at him, her hair slick and sticking to her face and mask.

"I know who you're going after," She recited from the note that her 'employer' had left in her mailbox, "please, let me help." She begged – if there was one thing she was excellent at, it was lying. But half of it wasn't a lie; she honestly wanted to spend more time with the devil of Hell's Kitchen.

"I work better alone." He insisted and she rolled her eyes.

"What happens when you can't work alone? Because I know how big this guy is; he's everywhere, and you can't do it alone." She strongly explained, and he was silent.

Turning to face her, he slowly nodded. "If you understand the risk, you can. But I'm not responsible if you fall down." He sternly told her and she scoffed, crossing her arms irritably.

"I'm a big girl; I can handle myself." She promised and the other masked vigilante held out his hand. She nodded, smiling as she shook his hand. There was something familiar about him and without thinking she pulled him closer, pressing her lips to his. A familiar sensation made her toes curl; and she pushed him away after a moment.

"I'll see you here tomorrow night; same time. Be there, or be square." She insisted, smiling as she gracefully leapt onto the opposite building. When she turned back, he wasn't gone like he usually would be. He still stood there, barely visible in the dark, almost looking at her. Shaking her head and wiping her hair off her face she ran back home. She couldn't believe she had kissed him, him being the Devil of Hell's Kitchen, the person she had been hired to bring to her employer. It's okay though, she told herself – you're merely luring him in. You're just doing your job.

Alicia woke with a start to find she had dozed off on the couch after coming in less than twenty minutes ago from patrol. At first she wasn't sure what had woken her, and then she heard it again; thumping from Matty's apartment.

"Please no." She said aloud to herself as she quickly stood, ripping off her 'costume' and hurriedly pulling on her gym shorts and a tank top that she had left in the corner of the sitting room in her sports bag. Hurriedly pulling open her apartment door she ran along the corridor in frenzy, her bare feet slapping against the wooden oak steps as she jogged up the stairs on to Matt's floor. Her heart pounding she reached Matt's door and without thinking took the spare key from its hiding spot and flung open the door.

The apartment was barely lit, but it was lit enough for her to see Matt standing next to the couch, a grey hoodie over black jeans. Another man stood by the fridge. She was surprised by the fact Matt wasn't wearing his glasses.

"Matt? Is everything okay I heard some really scary thumping downstairs?" She explained, her eyes anxiously flickering between the pair.

The man beside the fridge was the first to respond; "I thought you said she wasn't coming back." Alicia frowned at this remark, but turned her attention back to Matt. The lawyer quickly walked over to her, moving a certain way that caused Alicia to walk back toward the door as he drew closer.

"No, Alicia everything's fine. I just dropped a bag; thin floors, you'll get used to it." He promised and Alicia smiled weakly.

"Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt." She apologized as she felt the other blind man's gaze fall on her, and she squirmed.

"Soft stuff, Matty." He reminded him and Matt gritted his teeth angrily, wanting to turn and punch Stick in the jaw.

"I'm sorry; Stick's an old friend. I'll see you tomorrow, Alicia." Matt stated abruptly and Alicia got the message, nodding.

"It's uh, nice to meet you, Stick," she said over Matt's shoulder to be received with a scoff, "again, I'm sorry to interrupt – just worried, yino? See you later, Matty." Alicia said, pressing Matt's spare key into the palm of his hand.

"No, keep it. One day I may actually need you to come rescue me." He chuckled and she nodded, pocketing it. A small sense of pride that he honoured her with it came from inside.

Alicia found herself back in her apartment, the room above her silent as she thought about the devil, the kiss they'd shared and Matt with Stick. She knew there had to be something he was hiding – maybe Stick was his uncle or something? It was probably something innocent like that. But the way 'Stick' had looked at her; she shuddered recalling the stare the older man had given her, like a farmer deciding what to do with the runt of a litter.

Alicia wasn't a runt, was she?

* * *

 **Author's Note: A huge thank you for all the support this story is getting. It means the world to me. I'm sorry about the late update, and like I said on another story I'm going away tomorrow and won't be back until Monday at the latest. The story may seem a little slow moving but 'Stick' is where it all begins to kick off.**


	8. Chapter 8

Matt was aware it was a dream. For one, he could see perfectly. He stood in the centre of a dark room; in fact everything was shrouded in thick blackness except for one thing – the shape hanging from the ceiling. The person wasn't particularly large; their hands tied together, wrists bloody from the thick rope. Their arms were above their head, hanging by the wrists from a rusty meat hook.

Immediately, Matt somehow knew it was Alicia. Alicia how he imagined her, anyway – the pain of it was, Matt had never truly seen his girlfriend's face. He knew her smell; vanilla and cleanliness, with a slight musk to it. He knew the curve of her cheekbones, the shape of her oval face and the feel of her long eyelashes brushing off the tips of his fingers. He knew the curve of her nose precisely where it dipped to create the bridge – he knew the feel of her luscious lips, lips he loved. But in the dream, her face was nearly entirely smashed in. Her nose broken and bloody, her lips annihilated – her cheekbones cracked. But somehow, she was still alive.

Her face, covered in sticky crimson, painfully looked up toward him.

"Matt!" She yelled, as if he were far away, tears streaming down her face – tears of blood. "Matty I'm so sorry," she sobbed, her body jerking like a pained animal as she harshly hiccupped and wailed, "I'm so sorry!" Alicia cried, her boding jerking with convulsing gasps. Her legs gave in and Matt desperately tried to lift the weight off her wrists but in a deafening snap she fell, her hands backwards, wrists at sickening angles. Alicia screamed, her eyes rolling back into her head as Matt again tried to reach her but Stick suddenly stood in his way.

"Soft things, Matty." He sneered as Foggy's lifeless body appeared on the ground in front of the wailing woman, his eyes open and staring judgingly up at the blind vigilante.

Alicia threw herself across Foggy, still wailing. Karen's figure soon joined Foggy, thrown also across Alicia's lap.

"Look what we've done, Matty…" Alicia whispered as Matt's eyes flickered open and he sat forward, panting, panic seizing his limbs when he released he was alone, the rain gently trickling down the window beside him as he sat up in bed.

* * *

Alicia regretted leaving Matt and 'Stick' alone last night. Maybe if she hadn't she could've stopped the obvious fight that happened; it was a Thursday, and since both she and Matt happened to work near the same stretch of Hell's Kitchen they would walk to work together. It wasn't arranged – it just sort've happened on its own.

But maybe if she hadn't left them alone last night she wouldn't have been standing in Matthew's apartment, staring around the place in shock and horror. It was _destroyed._ Fixtures, furniture and ornaments lay utterly destroyed on the floor, shards of glass glinting on the carpet and splinters of wood waiting to impale unsuspecting bare feet. A lamp lay smashed by the window, a broken beer bottle by the couch. Alicia peered into Matt's bedroom, unsure she would keep her breakfast down at whatever sight lay before her; but she simply found Matt in bed as his alarm began to chirp.

He pressed his palm down atop the pyramid as Alicia sat down.

"Seven, o'clock." The robotic woman told them as Alicia dabbed the bloody cut above Matt's eyebrow as he rolled over, making space for her to get comfortable. Alicia sat on her legs as she picked up the first aid box from the bedside table and wiping the cut clean, placed two white stitches diagonally on it.

"What are you?" Alicia whispered as her face hung low over Matt's, the eyes Alicia adored looking back at her face as her fingertips gently traced the large scare on his chest, the painful yellow bruise coating his collarbone.

"I don't know," Matt softly said back as he shivered gently against her warm touch on his cold skin, "I don't know." He mindfully repeated as he took her hand in his.

"I'll see you later, Matt." Alicia gently said as she took her hand from his and left the apartment as fast as she could.

She was half way down the road when she broke down and fell into the doorway of an old abandoned shop. Slipping down the wine door tears washed over her face and she curled into the corner, ignoring the smell, ignoring the thoughts of disgust in her brain as she cried. Alicia realised she didn't know Matt Murdock; she knew about him, but she didn't know _him._ She was such a damn fool for believing she knew him. A man who has a destroyed apartment, cuts, bruises and scars is not a man who likes his secrets known. And Alicia loved trust more than she realised up until now. Alicia was in a downward spiral, and she didn't know how to get out of it.

Alicia would tell Matt anything, but she was afraid he wouldn't tell her a single whisper.

After work Alicia found herself wandering almost aimlessly. She didn't want to go home, to where Matt could be waiting, and she didn't want to go to church, where Father McClain would be waiting. Looking down at the ground, she walked onto the road. Alicia wasn't far from her favourite pub, where her Grandmother and her would watch the match on Sunday's – she could go there, wait until closing then stumble home stinking of Jack Daniels or any other poison of her choice.

"Look out!" Someone yelled and Alicia's head whipped up to find a silver Volvo inches away from her; and didn't look like it was going to stop. The bumper rammed her hip and Alicia felt her body fly backwards and fall heavily down upon the tarmac. Staring up at the black sky, she felt a trickle of blood slip out her nose. Faintly, she heard panicked voices as people desperately called ambulances and police. All Alicia could think about was Matt.

And how she never got to apologise for how she acted that morning.


	9. Chapter 9

Alicia had been two weeks in hospital. They said it had been a miracle she hadn't been hurt badly and the fact the ambulance came so quickly. There had been internal bleeding, but it healed fast, and the bruises and cuts were beginning to fade. Her hip was painful to touch, a large black bruise decorating her skin as a mark of the incident she bad participated in.

When Alicia first arrived she slept through two days and three nights, waking for water and little bits of food in between before falling back into the black abyss. She was really getting sick of hospitals. According to the nurses a few people had visited; Missy, Alicia's friend from work, Foggy, Karen (together), and then of course – Matt. He had left virtually no trace of himself being there other than a single bouquet of bright and cheery flowers. An ache formed in her heart as she gazed upon them as she packed to go home; Alicia wished she had been awake for his visit, just so she could say how sorry she was.

And that she loved him, no matter what he was keeping from her.

"You should be resting." A voice said behind her and Alicia's back tensed. She turned to find the same man from that night; the night she agreed to put an end to the Devil.

"I have a job to do, remember?" She said through gritted teeth, attempting to remain calm in the presence of the man who made her so uncomfortable the way he looked her up down. He made her so uncomfortable it angered her he had such an effect over her.

"I do remember, but there is no need to hurt yourself further – I'm sure you're working on our little problem." He drawled, holding out a crystal vase filled with lush, blood red roses professionally placed inside. Alicia took them, refusing to let her hands tremble.

"From my employer?" She said softly, her palms sweaty and sliding over the vases smooth surface.

He smirked, "No," he confidentially told her, "from me." Alicia's stomach dropped at the words, realising he was 'interested' in her.

"I – I won't disappoint. I'll have the devil before you know it. I know where to bring him. As per your instructions." She quickly said, changing the subject.

"I'm sure you do," The man with glasses told her, as he turned to leave.

He stopped at the door, "Until next time, Miss Kavanagh." And with that, he left.

A shudder ran through Alicia's spine as she placed the vases on the bedside table, grabbed Matt's bouquet and left with her bag under her arm.

That's how she found herself standing in the warehouse.

"The devil is on his way." She told them, guilt and horror at herself coursing through her veins – he had been so trusting of her.

"You've done a great service to us, Miss Kavanagh," Wilson Fisk told her. She thought it near impossible she would meet her employer – but the fact she did told her something; that he wanted something more from her. "My associate, Mr. Wesley," Fisk continued, gesturing to the man that made her spine chill, "did well to find you." Wesley almost looked smug at Fisk's words – or maybe that was just his face.

"I'm overjoyed you're pleased with my work," She told him, hands behind her back. "Is there something else I can do for you? Because if there is not, I would like to take what is mine and leave if that would suffice." She told him professionally, and Fisk nodded.

"A woman of business; admirable, to say the least. Yes, there is more. I want to add you to my substantial pay-roll as a full-time…cleaner, for situations like this." Fisk simply explained. Wesley cocked his head to the side, listening.

"I believe Nobu and the man of the hour are quite finished." The assistant explained, looking toward her.

They entered into the main half of the warehouse, where the devil was struggling to his feet. Fisk lead the way and her stomach churned softly at the smell of burning flesh coming from the corner of the room, where Fisk's Chinese associate was engulfed in flames.

"Nobu was becoming an issue," Fisk told the masked man, whose shirt was ripped and covered in the blood oozing from his wounds. She couldn't help feel a wave of regret wash over herself. "Appreciate you…removing him, from concern."

"Y-You wanted me to do this," The devil gasped and she felt her eyes widen as she recognized the voice. It was Matty. Sweet Matty who kept something from her and know she finally knew.

Horror made her stomach sick as she realised she betrayed not only the devil but Matt too.

"In the perfect world, you would've taken each other out…but it isn't a perfect world, is it? Not yet," Fisk explained, glancing back toward Wesley. She stood not far behind Wesley, trying to avoid the scene before her. The one she caused. "To be honest, it took longer than I expected," the devil stood, clutching his side in pain. "Nobu didn't mind, he meditated for hours but I find it difficult to meditate, my…my mind it won't quiet – it's a character flaw, I suppose. We all have them, you for instance," Fisk said, pointing to Matt.

"You've demonstrated an emotional weakness for children, women…" Fisk pointedly look back toward her and she felt her stomach roll as she guilty looked down…I assumed that would extend to the elderly so I baited the hook and here you are." Fisk said chillingly.

"You took her life," Matt breathlessly said, the pain from his injuries obviously hurting him, "just to get my attention." He spat, and Fisk shook his head slightly.

"Nobu forced my hand in the matter, my options they were limited, I took no pleasure in her passing. At first, we sent the girl," Fisk said, "see if she could help lure you in. She was quite successful. But we feared it wasn't enough." Wilson truthfully told him,

"I-I'm gonna kill you." Matt gasped as both Wesley and Fisk's other guard raised their guns. Fisk gestured for them to lay their weapons down.

"Take your shot!" Fisk implored him suddenly, and in a flurry of movements and the loud sounds of punches being thrown as Matt fell to the floor. He pulled himself up but he was merely beaten down again. Matt picked up Nobu's weapon and in a mad dash sliced Wilson; but somehow his jacket reflected it. This act of unsportman-like violence infuriated Fisk more. He threw Matt against a desk, pounding him and pounding him until she couldn't take it anymore.

"Stop!" She screamed, grabbing Fisk's arm and yanking him away from Matt. Fisk stumbled back as Alicia fell to her knees next to the devil. She cried at the sight of his face covered in sticky blood and as he moaned in pain, she gently shushed him, her shaking hands running over his bloody face in the hopes of taking his pain into her own physical.

"So Delilah has fallen for Samson…" Fisk spoke as Alicia helped Matt to his feet. "It's disappointing…" Fisk sighed as he walked away, "Wesley…" He ordered softly and the right hand man pulled back his gun, ready to fire. Within a flash, Matt had picked up one of his wooden sticks and thrown it at Wesley, whose aim was ruined and the bullet bounced off a pipe. Matt threw himself forward and out the window, trying to drag Alicia with him but his grip slipped and she fell back into the room as he disappeared into the dark below.

Alicia stood by the window, arms up as Wesley pointed the gun at her.

"Please, Wesley…" She pleaded, twisting the obvious emotions the associate had, "James, don't do this…" Alicia begged, quickly recalling his first name.

"We'll call you." James coldly said, shooting her square in the collar – so close to her jugular, he presumed he hit the major artery as she stumbled back, clutching her wound and threw herself out the window. Glass flew out in a cloud of shimmering pieces as she plummeted into the water below; she was soon engulfed, freezing water as the rusty red blood swam from her wound around her.

Vaguely, she felt someone pull her from the murky depths of the water before she drowned.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **This was an especially hard chapter to write, I'm not really sure why. I hope I got Fisk and Wesley right; I really tried especially hard to make it all believable on their parts.**


	10. Chapter 10

Alicia's eyes flickered open. Fuzziness greeted her. She closed her eyes again and then opened them once more. She was greeted with a cracked ceiling, lights presumably from the city dancing across its peeling paint. "Finally, you're awake." A voice spoke from somewhere on Alicia's right. Female. Young.

Pulling herself up she found herself in new, foreign clothing. A huge blue hoodie, grey tracksuit bottoms and trainers was all she wore as her gaze fell upon her mysterious rescuer. The woman stood by the window, staring down at the street cautiously.

"They haven't come looking for you." She mused as Alicia realised her wound had been stitched and bandaged.

"Why did you save me?" Alicia asked bluntly and the woman turned to her, revealing long reddy purple hair, with streaks of white.

"It would've been shitty for you – and my conscience." She simply explained as she threw herself down on an armchair across from Alicia; the armchair cried in despair.

Alicia gazed around to find herself sitting on a sagging couch in a cluttered and messy apartment. Bottles lay scattered around the room, along with newspapers, and other items she didn't care to think about.

"What's your name?" The vigilante asked, cracking her stiff neck.

The woman sighed before replying; "Melissa Gold. And I don't want to know yours, in case anyone comes knocking on my door." Melissa explained and something clicked within Alicia.

"Melissa Gold? As in Melissa Gold in the Grapplers? I knew you looked familiar. I'm a big fan." Alicia complimented and Mel smirked softly.

"Thanks. It means a lot from someone who has quite obviously gone through shit and back." Melissa said and Alicia nodded, standing. She swayed softly, but straightened herself as she leaned against the wall.

"I'll send the hoodie and stuff back later…thanks, again." She said and finding her clothes in a bundle, she picked them up and clutching them to her chest, Alicia fell out of the apartment.

She heard Melissa follow her and call; "Hey – I won't always be there to drag you out," Alicia turned back to her, seeing an almost look of concern on the woman's face, "whatever you're doing, I don't want to know – just be careful, OK? I doubt there's no one out there who cares about you. I say there are actually a lot of people who do. Right? Bye." And with that, Mel ducked back into her apartment and slammed the green door.

* * *

Somehow Alicia found herself back in her apartment – it was ransacked, someone obviously looking for something. Or her; but one thing stood out to her as she walked through the chaos around her and she stepped on something. Looking down, she found the photo of Matt and herself she cherished as she realised – seven months ago today she met Matt, and fell in love with him. Two months ago tomorrow she agreed to take down the devil; to take down Matt.

In the photo, rain had washed away New York State for almost a week. But still, being her stubborn self, Alicia had insisted they walked in Central Park. In this particular shot, Matt had crouched down, almost sitting on the (wet) stone steps – but Alicia had. A look of shock adorned her features, her mouth hanging open as the cold and wet sensation surprised her. And Matt had the balls to laugh.

Now, she gazed upon the splintered glass that the picture sat behind and felt tears well. How could he ever even care for her again after all she's done? Ripping the glass back, ignore the searing pain as vivid cuts appeared on her fingers she gently took the photo from its frame and pressed it against her chest, falling to her knees as she cried, and cried.

She had been blind in her hatred and rash in her rage. She had lost someone incredibly important to her, and who even knew if he had lived? Of course he did, he had to have had.

An hour later, she found herself looking upon her hateful appearance. It wasn't her appearance Alicia hated; it was what she's done. The obscured face Matt seemingly trusted as she led him straight to Fisk. The scissors glinted from the basin of the sink as she lifted it up; it was heavy, her maybe she was growing weaker. She had been out cold for three days according to her phone, which had nearly twenty missed calls on it. Some from Missy, Karen – one or two even from Foggy. None from Matt, however.

Taking a handful of hair in her left hand, she chopped most of the length off. By the time she was finished, most her hair was on the floor. Somehow, she felt less heavy. Like she was different, and somehow reborn. But this soon left her and she was only standing in her bathroom, her feet surrounded by hair and trembling. Falling into bed, exhausted and stripping to only her underwear, Alicia slipped off into awkward and uncomfortable sleep.

* * *

The church was silent as Seamus settled himself in the confessional. Alicia sat across from him, and his old heart felt heavy as he gazed upon her beaten and worn face.

"Bless me f-father," she whispered, "for I have sinned. I…I can't even tell you all of my sins. I just have no one else to go to. I'm lost father, and I'm scared. I hurt someone, I hurt Matt. And I can't forgive myself." She gasped, clutching the grate desperately as if she was holding herself up.

"I have you spoken to Matt?" Seamus asked softly and Alicia was silent.

"No, I haven't." She admitted and Seamus nodded gently.

"Talk to him, then tell me your woes. You might be surprised, Alicia. He may not been as hateful as you obviously think he is." The priest simply explained.

And that's how Alicia found herself in front of Matt's door. She hadn't even knocked when he opened the door, his face as mashed as hers. Her injury's she presumed came from Melissa dragging her, but Matt's – they were painful to look at.

"Before you scream at me or whatever," she began, "I am so sorry. I-I was convinced The Devil – or you, I mean, were responsible for everything with the house and I just…I hate myself over-" Matt cut her off by wrapping his arms around her.

"I thought you were dead. Five days…five days and I hadn't heard anything from you." Matt murmured as his fingers ran through her short hair.

"I wasn't sure if you were alive, Matt. I just…I couldn't bring myself to call in case…" Alicia couldn't bring herself to finish her sentence as she felt tears block her throat as Matt picked her up, and bridal style, carried her into his bedroom.

They lay there, listening to the city outside and Alicia's head rested on Matt's chest. Soon, her eyes felt heavy, but faintly she heard him quietly say that he loved her.

"I'm sorry, Matt…I love you." She whispered so softly it would've been only audible to him, and that's the only way she wanted it. But before she heard his response, she slipped away into the abyss of sleep.

When she woke up, it hadn't been a dream – Matt was still there, and she was too.

Despite it all, she was still here.


	11. Chapter 11

Mental preparation.

There was not time for anything but that now as Alicia watched Matt prepare himself for going after Fisk's suit maker – the one that had the material that caused Matt's knife attack to be harmless. That had been insult to injury for Matt, and that's why Alicia presumed he was trying with such intent to find this masked tailor – he wanted this over with. And soon.

He sat on the carpet in meditation as Alicia silently watched him, standing by the couch with her arms crossed. After nearly thirty minutes of this shared silence, Matt stood. Effortlessly manoeuvring the couch he found Alicia and placed a comforting kiss atop her head.

"Stay here. Don't leave. Don't answer the door; don't even pick up the phone. Stay away from the windows and-"

"Matt, stop," Alicia gently placed a finger against his lips. "You've already told me all this. Don't worry about me….just…" she trailed off, her mind searing with anger as she stared intently into Matt's eyes, fury coursing through her veins as she thought about how Fisk had hurt Matty. "Just make that bastard pay." Alicia whispered finally and Matt solemnly nodded, pressing his lips softly to hers.

* * *

"I love you." He softly said against her lips and her stomach flipped with joy as she smiled, even in a dark situation like this. Just hearing him say what she suspected made this horrible situation a tiny bit better.

"I love you, Matt Murdock. I always have." Alicia softly said, pulling away from him. He nodded once more, and returned to preparing himself.

Five hours. Five hours Matt had been gone and Alicia found herself underneath the window, gazing absent-mindedly at the florescent light stained across the pale wooden boards. Worry coursed through her mind; was Matt hurt? Was he dead? Could Fisk burst through that door at any moment?

It took a single noise to stir her from these troubling thoughts, and it was a single, sharp rap on the door. Fear froze her muscles and she hardly breathed, waiting for the door to be torn down, for Fisk and Wesley to come in and murder her. Alicia felt like crying, like screaming and fighting all at the same time. Twenty minutes pass, and she still was sitting there staring at the door in horror like an idiot. Finally, after what seems like an hour, she hesitantly crawled to the door, like a baby talking their first independent trek.

Deep breath, she reminded herself as she reached for her weapon – a kitchen knife. Holding it behind her back, she opened the door a crack. Thankfully, she thought, it doesn't creak. Frowning, she realised there was no threat – someone had merely left a black box neatly on the doorstep. Quickly she pulled the box into the room and without thinking, threw off the lid.

"No…" she whispered, tears pooling in her eyes at the contents that lay before her. Sitting perfectly in the centre of the box, velvet surrounding it was her grandmother's rosary. A single, pristine white card was placed underneath it and with trembling fingers, Alicia picked the card up.

" _Vengeance is my gift._

 _This box is a reminder; that what they did is not forgotten._

 _I remember._

 _And those who hurt your family will be punished."_

Who sent this?


	12. Chapter 12

Thirteen Years Ago

The church was packed, but silent. The congregation watched as the coffin glided up the aisle, carried by the officers Alicia's father worked with. She could feel her grandmother's warmth beside her, the woman's soft hand holding hers gently. They followed the coffin, gripping to one another as the mourners faces looked upon them, empathic. It was just them.

They were the only family following the coffin, because they were the only family next.

Alicia looked up at her grandmother, whose face was composed. Her soft, brown eyes followed her son's coffin intently. But by the end of the mass, both females were gripping each, silent tears rolling down their faces. A son had been lost and a father had been taken. Alicia could hardly breath, choking on the tears she held back. Her grandmother stroked her hair, holding her close and murmuring words of comfort. Alicia managed to regain control of her emotions and her grandmother pulled away, wiping away her grandbaby's tears away with a tissue from her sleeve. It smelled of baby-powder.

"Mrs. Kavanagh?" A voice interrupted them, and Alicia looked up to find a couple she didn't know. They looked like they had Italian in them, and Alicia's Grandmother smiled softly, taking the man's extended hand in her own. They shook hands. "Mario Castiglione, I went to school with your son. He…Dermot was a good guy. A kind one, more than anything; this is such a waste." Mr. Castiglione said, his wife holding out a mass card to Mrs. Kavanagh as her husband let the elderly woman's hand drop.

"Hi, I'm Louisa. I'm so sorry. From what Mario said, Dermot seemed like a great man," The woman spoke softly, empathy written on her features.

The woman, in a motherly manner took Alicia's hands in hers. "You poor thing…" she said softly, a sad smile on her face, "losing your Momma and Dad like that. You must-" The woman was cut off by Father Seamus speaking into the microphone, standing at the altar…holding a young boy by the collar.

"Ah mother of god." Mario Castiglione sighed as the priest spoke.

"Whose child is this?" The elderly man's voice boomed causing Alicia to cringe. The Priest scared her.

Mario and his wife rushed up, taking their son between them and quickly scurried down the aisle. But as they passed, Mrs. Kavanagh stepped in front of them, smiling kindly.

"Who is this?" She asked, her velvet Irish accent comforting and motherly – like always. Mario and his wife exchanged a look before releasing their son, who straightened. Alicia stood behind her grandmother, who took the young teen's hand. His strong face was covered in bruises, possibly from scraps with local neighbouring kids.

"What's your name?" Mrs. Kavanagh asked and the boy glowered.

"Francis." He gruffly said, promptly making his way out of Mrs. Kavanagh's grip. But the older woman smiled.

"Francis is sixteen," his mother said, brushing her son's hair out of her son's face; the boy shrugged her off. "He's usually so good," Mario rolled his eyes at his wife's naivety, "but…I'm sorry, we should go." Louisa sighed, but Mary Kavanagh shook her head kindly.

"Not at all," She smiled at the boy, who towered over her small frame. Mary turned her attention back to his parents, particularly Mario. "Some of your class mates are here, like Richard Parker?" Mary suggested and Mario smiled, running off to find Parker, along with his wife.

"Alicia, why don't you keep Francis here company?" Mary suggested, and before Alicia could protest, her grandmother had walked away, smiling.

"Hi," Alicia shyly began, and she received a rough hey back. "I'm Alicia." She simply said. Alicia caught a glint of gold peeking from the boy's shirt – it was a cross. She shifted awkwardly; it may have been her father's funeral, but Alicia couldn't deny how handsome she found the boy to be.

"Look I…" he started, clearing his deep voice and Alicia intently looked up, "sorry 'bout your folks and all. I hope the bastard who did it gets put away." He said strongly. _'How could someone get away with a hit and run? Especially a cop? God, she looks so helpless.'_ He thought, a sadness biting his heart. He was surprised – he hardly knew her.

Father Seamus suddenly stood beside Alicia, glaring at the young boy from under his bushy eyebrows as he gently placed an old, calloused hand on Alicia's shoulder.

"Here, my child," He said kindly, holding out the large framed photo of Dermot Kavanagh to his daughter. "Best not to forget it." The old man sighed, placing a caring hand atop the girl's head, thinking a prayer for her, before turning and tottering off. Francis watched as the thirteen year old looked down at the photo, eyes glazed over. Dermot had had a strong jaw, big blue eyes and a full head of unruly blonde curls. He looked like a six foot cupid.

Before Alicia could control herself, she had burst into tears again. Sobbing, she sobbed harder at how much her chest hurt. Alicia gasped for breath, hating the fact everyone was staring at her with pitying gazes. Everyone except for Francis.

"Hey, kid – Alicia?" Francis's voice caught her attention. Waves of tears rolling down her face uncontrollably.

"Yes?"

"It's all gonna be OK. Your Dad, well…he can't feel pain anymore. God's got him now. He'll be alright…and I'm sure as hell he's gonna miss you." Francis promised, laying a hand on the smaller person's shoulder. She nodded jerkily, taking a deep breath and wiping her face with her sleeve.

"I know," she sighed heavily, taking a deep breath, "but I'm still gonna miss him." Alicia said reluctantly. Francis nodded, shifting and clearing his throat, trying to move the conversation away from that one moment of emotion he showed.

"Yeah, I get that."

Francis and his family promptly left after that, and Alicia didn't see Mr. and Mrs. Castiglione again but one night, Francis had been mugged, and Father Seamus called Mary, who lived closer than his parents to the local hospital. Mary had obviously told Alicia, and the pair waited with the young teen until his parents arrived. Mary had lied, saying she was his grandmother and Alicia was his sister. While the Castiglione's boarded a train to get to their son, Alicia had sat with him while Mary went off to get coffee. They had hurt him badly, and he was unconscious.

"If he hears his baby sister here he may be more inclined to wake up, sweet-heart." A plump, motherly nurse told Alicia softly. Alicia almost gave it away that Francis wasn't her brother, but she nodded politely.

"Thank you, I'll try." She respectfully responded, and the nurse nodded.

"If you need anything, I'll be just down the hall." The nurse told her, smiling kindly as she left the room, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Alicia sighed, sitting forward. Francis hardly knew her, but what would be the harm.

"Hi, so um, it's Alicia. We…we met at my dad's funeral? I'm not stalking you, I swear, it's just your folks remembered my Grandmother lived near this hospital, so they asked Father Seamus to ask my gran would she come down, so here I am," Alicia began. But still, he was still, "the nurse says you've a broken rib, and loads of bruises and stuff. You're gonna look like you went to war. But hey, I really hope you whipped their scumbag asses before they got the better of you," Alicia finished, but he was, like before, still. "…good chat, 'big brother.'" She laughed, standing with her hands in her hoodie pockets as she opened the door.

"I kicked their scrawny asses…using a fuckin' pipe was a cheap trick." Francis's voice groaned and Alicia stopped, her face breaking into a grin.

Nine Years Later

Alicia felt comatose. First, she had lost her parents – and now the mob had taken her Grandmother. The light in her life, the woman who had put her through school and college and got her the interview in the local centre; Mary Kavanagh had believed in her granddaughter, loved her, protected her and gave up everything to protect a near total stranger. Alicia admired and hated that fact all at the same time.

She knelt in front of the grave tiredly, and placed the plant at the base of the three person grave. Alicia felt like her person had been put on pause, and she was merely functioning like a robot. Walk right, walk left. Sleep and move. That's all she seemed to do. Her strength was gone and getting out of bed, even eating, was an effort. Alicia hadn't even eaten in two days. She just couldn't. Tiredness nipped at her conscious – she had only been sleeping in short bursts, twenty minutes there, an hour here. It was finally catching up.

Her eyes closed, and she felt herself drift off.

When she opened her eyes again, she was back in her apartment. In her bed, shoes taken off – her mind was groggy, memory hazy as she wiped the sleep out of her eyes with the sleeve of her jumper. It was black outside, the city lights running in and out of her room via the window. Trying to convince her heavy eyes to open, she flicked on the beside light. The room was flooded with warm yellow light, and Alicia noticed a message on her answer machine.

Pressing the play button, she lay back down in the bed, yawning. Confusion ran through her mind; how the hell did she get home? Who brought her home? Alicia noticed her keys placed neatly on the table beside her, her shoes neatly in the corner. The TV was still in the corner – nothing had been taken, or so she could tell.

"Received at ten AM, two days, ago: Hey Alicia, its Missy at the centre," the voice of her secretary rang through the speaker of the voice machine. Alicia cursed, two days she'd been asleep!? "Your boyfriend came by, Francis? He seems so nice, but anyway, he said you wouldn't be in work for a week or a bit. And look, that's fine. I hope he takes good care of you. I'll see you around – take care of yourself. Mary wouldn't want you to hurt yourself." Missy sighed, and the voice clicked off.

Sitting up in bed, Alicia frowned. Francis? Who the hell was Francis and why did Missy think he was her boyfriend? The last guy in her life was Danny, Danny Rand, and that hadn't gone well. But then it clicked – Francis Castiglione. God, he must be at least twenty-five now. She stood out of the bed, and unsteadily, she walked downstairs. The hall light was on, but everything else was off. The locks and bolts were all shut on the front door. He probably left through the back door.

Flicking on the kitchen light, she found piles of shopping bags, filled with food, on the island. The glass from the wine bottle Alicia smashed before she went to the graveyard was cleaned up and in the bin. Alicia noticed the statue of the Jesus Christ, The Sacred Heart, was standing in its usual place. But someone had placed the photo of Alicia, her mother, Róisín, her father, Dermot and her Grandmother behind the gracious Christ. Alicia had hidden it under the fruit bowl on the table. Hanging from Christ's neck was her grandmother's rosary beads, the ones she had thrown in rage at the wall. Smiling sadly, she fingered the beads.

"Thanks, Francis…" she mumbled to herself.

Present Time

Alicia cried, bringing the rosary to her cheek. They didn't smell like her grandmother any more, they smelt like cleanliness. Alicia had been told they were lost in the fire, but obviously someone had found them. She wrapped them around her hands, laying her head against the wall, remembering the last time she had seen her grandmother. Alicia had kissed her cheek, saying goodbye – her grandmother had told her to be safe. If only Alicia had known to tell her not to open the door, to keep safe herself. But Alicia hadn't, and when she had come home, she had been gone. Dead on the doorstep.

His heart hurt seeing her cry. Watching through the sight, he was pleased she had found his gift. At least she had them back. He had always watched from afar, since…well since central park happened. He would kill them all for her. Kill anyone who hurt the Kavanagh's.

Kill anyone who hurt Alicia.


	13. Chapter 13

Matt stopped back to the apartment before he went to Nelson and Murdock, Attorneys at Law.

He changed into a suit, his collar loose and open.

"Alicia?" He called, and she treaded in lightly from the bathroom, wiping her tear-stained face hastily. "Anything happen, when I was gone?" He asked softly, his voice filled with concern as he took her face in his calloused hands. She broke down, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"S-Someone dropped in granny's rosary…I lost them in the fire, but someone found them with a note." Alicia sobbed, Matt's gentle voice murmuring words of comfort as he steered her toward the bed, where he sat the two of them down.

"Read the note to me." He softly commanded, taking her hand in his. Sniffing deeply and gasping for breath, emotions turbulent within her, she plucked up the card with a shaky hand and read it aloud. When she was finished, the apartment was still. Sirens screeched outside, muffled by brick and glass. Someone in the room below is screaming at their husband, who is sobbing.

Finally, Matt broke the silence. "Do you know who it could be?" He asked steadily, and Alicia shook her head, curling into Matt's side. Fresh tears of pain and fear washed down her pale cheeks, and Matt wrapped an arm around her as he kissed her forehead comfortingly.

"I don't know," she admitted, sighing as she wiped her runny nose and streaming eyes with the sleeve of her grey sweater, crawling into bed as she replied. Matt pursed his lips, worried. She wasn't usually this emotional and the package she was given by a mysterious benefactor obviously shook her to her core.

"I'm just happy I have it back, I suppose. The note didn't seem like it meant to threaten me…just people who hurt the Kavanaghs." She explained as Matt tucked her in.

It was late; nearly half twelve.

"I'm going out. But I'll be back." He swore as he felt Alicia's slender fingers trail across his cheek.

"You better, you Daredevil." She whispered, a faint wisp of a smile in her voice. He heard her sit up, the rustling of sheets and he felt her lips against his. Her scent was intoxicating, at least to him. The familiar musky scent of vanilla with she seemed to naturally radiate, and the smell of baby-powder entangled with the homely smell. It created Alicia for Matt. Her soft fingers, bruised and covered in cuts, ran through his hair gently.

"I have to go." He protested feebly and he felt her smile, a small sad smile.

"I love you, Matty."

It was his turn to smile; "I love you too, Ali."

It was three am. She slammed hand on the clock and its cool metallic voice informed her as she lurched to the bathroom and she deposited the contents of her stomach in the basin of the toilet. Alicia shivered, and finding one of Matt's hoodies on the back of the door, threw it on. Alicia brushed her teeth like a robot, and then stumbled back into the sitting room. What the hell had she eaten that hated her so much?

Wandering over to the tap, she picked up a glass from the counter with trembling fingers, and turned on the tap. The sound of water pooling was loud in the silent room. Then it hit her – she had been so wrapped up, so worried with Fisk, with Matt's injuries and the people trying to kill her. She had missed it. The monthly gift that came to bite her in the ass once a month since she was thirteen up until god knows when exactly.

 _Shit. Shit. Shit._

* * *

A knock stirred Alicia from her comatose state on the couch and she ran forward, throwing the door open to reveal a startled Missy.

"Jesus Christ, Alicia, you look like shit!" Missy yelped as she was dragged inside, the door slamming hurriedly behind her. "What happened to you? W-who hurt you?" Missy begged for answers as Alicia took the package her best friend held out to her. "We haven't heard from you in weeks; ever since you were in that hit and run – Alicia, talk to me!"

Ignoring her pleads; Alicia ran to the bathroom and locked the door. Missy sighed, shaken at her friend's distant state. Alicia had been happy, somewhat, but always with an underlining restlessness with herself. When she started with this guy, Matt (who Missy met briefly once), she was happy again. Happy like she was when Mary died. But now he had put her in a bad place, she had cuts over her face and bruises blossoming around her neck and chest. Had he done that to her…? No, Alicia wouldn't stand for that. That isn't her style. If anything, Alicia has put herself into whatever 'this' was. Missy sat, and only stood when she heard the bathroom door gently unlock. With slight hesitation, Alicia slipped out.

"I'm…" Alicia stuttered, at a loss for words. Her best friend ran to her, shaking her shoulders.

"For god sake, Alicia Kavanagh, please talk to me. Make some sense!" Missy begged, tears filling her eyes. For the first time since she arrived, Alicia looked into her friends eyes.

"Missy, I'm pregnant."


	14. Chapter 14

Alicia found herself lying in a bed of silk. She opened her eyes to find herself face to face with a layer of black silk, to be exact. Alicia felt heavy, like her limbs weighed a thousand tonne and she found she was tied to the sleek modern bed-frame by ties. Red, expensive ties – her head swam as she searched the room around her for a trace of where she was; it was all cool, metallic and modern – zero sense of personality. Unless the person binding her was like that.

Cold and Calculating.

The grey door opened, and in stepped half of her worst nightmare; James Wesley. He wasn't dressed in his usual suit, but rather a t-shirt and expensive tracksuit bottoms of the same colour as the room. Alicia tried to scramble away, break the bed posts, but she couldn't move. All she could feel was her face break into a smirk at the sight of him. He turned away from her, examining her in the mirror in front him as he removed his large watch and placed it gently on the dresser. Off went his glasses as he smoothed back his hair.

"Come on, James." A voice whined, and the inner-Alicia recoiled with horror when she realised it was her own voice. _Fucking shit,_ she thought as he gently got onto the king size bed, the edge dipping under his weight. Not fat, no – muscle. Alicia could see the hidden strength in the arms he concealed underneath his shirt and blazers day in and out.

"You're finally learning patience, Alicia." His voice dripped over her name.

"Not exactly, James." Alicia purred, and her inner-self cringed. What the hell was going on!? As far as Alicia could care, Wesley was dead to her. Then he was kissing her, and she felt her body light with electricity but her mind screamed in anger and fury.

' _Get away from him you idiot! He's a monster!'_ Her mind screamed, but her fingers trailed his face. This couldn't be real, and she felt like she was about to cry. Her body wasn't her anymore and her mind was in turmoil and livid with fear. Then she saw it; glinting on the hand cupping her face, Wesley's left, was a silver wedding band. Her eyes fell on her hands, which were around his neck and she could feel herself being torn apart inside, screaming. The same ring, just smaller, sat proudly on her left ring finger.

This can't be happening.

Then she heard Fisk's voice in her ears; "So Delilah falls for Samson…" He shouted, loud and violent in her mind.

Samson. Matt Murdock. She was not married to James Wesley, and she hated him. Alicia loved Matt Murdock, the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Delilah had fallen for Samson, and would rather give herself over to the Philistines than hurt him. She was devoted to him, and definitely not James Wesley.

Then the gun was in her hand. But she couldn't bring it to James's temple, but merely her own. And before she could react, a perfectly manicured finger had pulled the trigger.

Alicia sat forward in the bed, panting, and heaved as she remembered the dream.

* * *

Matt silently opened the window, and slipped inside. It was daybreak, and he had gone another day without sleeping. He had followed the blind, literally, and found the Chinese drug factory. Alicia had originally wanted to come, but some reason, she hadn't shown up at their arranged meeting point. It was unlike her, and Matt was relieved to hear the sound of her familiar heart-beat when he entered the bedroom. Gently, he slipped into tracksuit bottoms. But froze when he heard the rapid heartbeat in the room. It wasn't from below, or above – it was coming _from Alicia._

But he could hear her heart-beat, calm and steady as she drifted along the river of dreams. Good, he hoped. But this heart-beat came from her abdomen.

"Holy shit." He gasped as thoughts and worries, and happiness flashing through his mind in a flurry of jumbled ideas.

Alicia was pregnant and he was going to be a father.

Gently, he shook her awake. Alicia eyes opened to find Matt looming above her, a smile carved into his beaten features – she felt a twinge of relief as a grin broke across her face as she realised he knew.

"I can't wait to meet them." Matt whispered in the darkness, the lights of the kitchen dancing around them like water on the ceiling and walls.

These lights would always guide Matt home, even if he couldn't see them in the darkness. He knew there would be light, because now he had not only Alicia, but a child too.

And with enough light, the darkness nights can be destroyed and the sun will rise.

* * *

 **Author's Note: A huge thanks to norien (I really hope I spelled that right) for their amazing review! I am honestly so happy you enjoy the story, and this chapter is dedicated to you.**


	15. Chapter 15

The graveyard was bitter cold as they laid Ben Urich to rest in the ground. The sky was rightly overcast, an icy wind whispering through the leaves of the large oaks in the distance. Many people came, and although Alicia only ever met Ben briefly once before, she knew he had been covering stories about Fisk, Matt and even Alicia herself. He and Karen had been close, as was obvious; she was trembling so hard Alicia had an arm linked with hers. Tears rolled down Karen's pink cheeks (from the cold), as Alicia's eyes fell upon Ben's widow. Silent tears of pain rolled down her weathered cheeks.

Alicia was terrified – she knew it was Fisk who did this, and she was terrified he would do this to Matty. Would she become the person Matt leaves weeping, or would she leave him in such a state? She shook her head slightly, tears stinging her eyes. Although she hadn't known Ben, she was still incredibly sorry for the loss of such a good character; he was obviously fighting valiantly against Fisk in his own way. Words are always considered mightier than the sword often than not.

Matt didn't move the entire time during the graveside vigil, merely watching on through his glasses and leaned heavily on his cane, as if he were about to topple over.

People started to move away once the coffin was resting upon the two metal planks, hovering above its final home and Karen pulled away to speak to Mrs. Urich. Alicia didn't realise until Karen left that the blonde was holding her friend up as well. She felt Matt place an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him.

"You alright?" He asked softly, his voice gruffer than usual. He was so obviously fuming with rage underneath his collected appearance. "He needs to be hurt, Matt – Fisk, he deserves everything coming to him." Alicia whispered quickly, emotions threatening to spill again.

Matt nodded, and Alicia could feel his arm tighten, not uncomfortably, around her waist. It was rather protectively.

"I have to go to the office – talk to Foggy and Karen. Keep yourself safe." He pleaded, kissing Alicia briefly. She nodded, hugging Matt fleetingly.

"I will as long as you do, Matt Murdock." She promised, drawing away from Matt, their fingers entangled – and then he was removed from her, walking toward the priest. Alicia nodded, burying her hands firmly in her coat pockets and burrowing her face further into her scarf. Alicia's eyes fell upon the gate, and just as she wished she could have a cup of hot chocolate at that exact freezing moment, she swore she felt someone watching her.

She stopped and the feeling of eyes boring into her back was still there as she quickly turned on her heel sharply – to find no one there.

"Whoever you are, I recommend you leave me the hell alone before my boot kicks you firmly in a place you don't want." She growled, her hands balling into fists. She was in a very, very bad mood due to hormones and fear.

A blond stranger stepped out from behind a mausoleum, dressed entirely in black with black shades obscuring his face. From being with Matt, Alicia grew to presume the sunglasses meant sight problems. But this man didn't have a cane, and she knew not all people with sight-loss were as confident as Matt was when it came to making their way around a cluttered graveyard; this man jumped effortlessly around sunken graves and sagging headstones. He had sight; twenty-twenty vision, even.

His mane of shaggy locks gently blew in the wind as he drew close to Alicia, a smirk plastered on what features she could see.

"Hi, you dropped this," he admitted, holding out Alicia's wallet, "I tried to run after you but – well, NY is a scary place; and when someone threatens to, um, attack you, running head first at them isn't a good idea." Alicia smiled, taking the wallet from him.

"Thanks," Nodding, she pocketed the purse in her pocket, _'Should've brought a bag,_ ' She cursed herself, but was surprised when she snapped back into reality to find the man standing in front of her still, that shit eating grin still on his face – then it hit her.

"Daniel Rand, my god. I should've known that mane anywhere." Alicia laughed, surprised at how easy it came. She hadn't laughed in, well, she knew it hadn't been long ago but she couldn't remember when exactly. So much crap had happened it felt like aeons ago. Danny was still grinning, his smile brightening the bleak landscape. It always had that dorky ability.

"Alicia Kavanagh – I knew that threatening, paranoid demeanour anywhere." He joked, and Alicia crossed her arms, annoyance bubbling to the surface. Another reason she and Danny wouldn't have worked; he was laid-back, she liked some sense of structure. If she remembered correctly, he had even called her a dominatrix once or twice. Jokingly, like Danny always did.

Not that Alicia couldn't enjoy herself, not that she wasn't a fun person – Danny was always the fun person, outgoing and good to party with. When you're young and stupid at twenty, he was ideal. But Alicia realised after she met Matt, Danny was totally wrong for her. Whereas Matty was perfect; calm, funny in his own way, and more than anything – she got on with him.

Alicia had managed the impossible with Danny; she had gotten into real arguments with him. You couldn't walk over Daniel Rand, but he was laid-back. Which Alicia couldn't stand. There was something about the good-looking, easy to smile, blond that wound her up. For a long time, it was something she liked about him. The relationship was fiery and tense, but she wanted to be with someone she could have something long-term with; Danny definitely wasn't that.

"What're you doing here, Daniel?" She asked, noticing Rand didn't seem to have any ideas about moving. He glanced around the graveyard fleetingly, and then returned to looking down at Alicia.

"Urich did a puff piece on my dad's company, well, my company, and I just came to show my respects. You haven't changed your coat, so I figured it was you – good to heal old wounds, you get me?" Danny quipped, and Alicia stared at him, falling into memory.

"Yeah, I get you..." She absent-mindedly trailed off.

* * *

"Do you like it?" Danny eagerly asked as Alicia lifted the silver lid of the box. Gasping, she lifted the camel coloured overcoat up and out of its tissue filled bed. It was gorgeous, and just from the material she could tell it was expensive. But that didn't even matter; Danny had just bought it for her and she couldn't help but gush with happiness that someone obviously cared that much to buy her something, let alone something expensive.

"I love it, Danny." Alicia assured him, kissing her recent boyfriend quickly as she pulled on the coat, inhaling the beautiful scent the coat emitted.

* * *

The coat had lost that scent after four years of dry cleaning. Now it smelled like vanilla, cleanliness and baby powder. It smelled like her. Not expensive, not pricey. Just her and she liked it that way.

"I'll see you around, Danny." She sighed, turning away from him and leaving the graveyard quickly. The blond stood, staring after her, black coat flapping in the wind as he watched her grow smaller and smaller in the distance.

Placing the phone against his ear, he began to walk in the opposite direction.

"Did you get it?" The female voice asked on the other end, and Danny nodded as he examined Alicia's ID.

"Yeah, but I don't know if she'll join." Danny replied, nodding to a passing stranger.

"She has to, Daniel. We need everyone we can find. Hell, we especially need her."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I have no idea why I decided to throw Danny Rand (Iron Fist) into this chapter, I just was like "I wanna do a chapter but I don't wanna finish the season one arc right now – I know! Let's bring up one of her ex's!"**

 **Alicia may end up joining Heroes for Hire (if it's introduced to the MCU) and Danny runs that in a way, so I suppose it's good he's introduced? (It's also good since he's also getting a Netflix show apparently as well.) Also, if you remember the girl who fished Alicia out of the river, well that's Songbird, who is in Thunderbolts with Iron Fist – so it's all coming together! I love when my stories do that.**

 **Sorry for that little ramble, ha it happens.**


	16. Chapter 16

As she climbed the stairs leading to Matt's floor, Alicia paused. She hadn't been in her apartment since she arrived back from Melissa's, and that had been at least a week or more ago. Turning back, she crept along the deserted floor toward her previous home. Alicia could hear her elderly neighbour's TV on full blast, where she obviously had her hearing-aid off again.

The young woman's heart thumped in her chest as she ventured closely, putting one foot in front of another. Alicia's hand rested on the handle and as she extracted her key from her pocket – she paused. What the hell could be in here? They'd obviously been there already, and they hadn't found anything; hell, they didn't have a clue the Devil of Hell's Kitchen lived above her, she doubted they would try a place so obvious like her home a second time. Even if they did, she wasn't there. Alicia had even gone to the trouble of coming into the building through the basement – just to make sure no one was following her. No one had.

Unlocking the door, she slipped inside to find the place untouched. Glass still glinted and danced in the weak sun streaming inside and the furniture still lay destroyed around the place. Gracefully dodging around the more hazardous objects, she kissed her crucifix as a sign of appreciation when she found that the curtains were still drawn. Something cracked loudly underfoot, and lifting her foot carefully, she found a pair of glasses underfoot.

The definition of Stockholm Syndrome was simple: feelings of trust or affection felt in many cases of kidnapping or hostage-taking by a victim towards a captor. Sometimes it's even a victim feeling empathy for their attacker.

Alicia never expected herself to experience it. Was it even Stockholm Syndrome? She doubted it, but what she was feeling could be mistaken as it. She studied people with the syndrome, tried to help them get past feelings of sympathy or empathy for their attacker and realise what they did was unacceptable, but despite her logical reasoning, Alicia couldn't help but tear up as she lifted James's glasses off the carpet, the lens' cracked and bloodied. A message; this is what you've done. But she didn't. She hadn't hurt him.

Maybe he had been following orders? Maybe he had purposely missed her jugular? Confusion and pity filled Alicia to her emotional brim. She took a deep breath, and told herself firmly;

 _'James Wesley tried to kill you. KILL-YOU! DONT' BE STUPID AND THINK HE SAVED YOU!'_

Rage filled Alicia, uncontrollable and brutal as she threw the glasses on the floor, stamping down on them with the heel of her boot.

"Screw you." She growled, stamping and stamping until they were mangled and the glass obliterated into little pieces. Wesley had been a puppet, a disdainful one at that. But Fisk was the one she despised.

Fisk was the one who had to die – Alicia rarely felt such deep, seething hatred toward another human being in her entire life. But this time, revenge was hers.

She would punish the wicked; she would punish Fisk.

 _"And I will punish the world for their evil, and the wicked for their iniquity; and I will cause the arrogancy of the proud to cease, and will lay low the haughtiness of the terrible."_

 _'King James Bible' – Isaiah 13:11_

* * *

The noise of the city below was muted this high up - cars whizzed through streets and snaked along alley ways like ants. The passing lights and streets made the city look like a circulatory system – one that had been filled with life and electricity.

"You shouldn't be here – it isn't safe." Matt insisted from his perch on the edge of the building, as Alicia drew closer to him.

"We don't have time for this; we need to get after him – now," Alicia stubbornly replied, slipping her mask to her face. She knew Matt wanted to argue further, but there wasn't any time. She stepped up carefully onto the edge beside Matt, and smirked when she noticed the horns protruding from the mask Matt held. "Are you ready, daredevil?" She asked calmly, nerves twisting her stomach.

Noise pricked Matt's attention, and Alicia knew it was time to end this once and for all.

* * *

Fisk ripped open the door of the truck which lay upon its side on the road. Matt had managed to crash it, refusing to let Alicia help. Her fury grew, and she was ready to strike. Fisk fell to his knees, groaning as he clutched the bloody gash blossoming on the side of his squat head. Both Matt and Alicia jumped atop the truck, Alicia as silent as a shadow – Matt loud, as to signal their arrival.

"You were right," Matt growled, staring down at Fisk with such rage that Alicia internally shivered. Fisk stared up, dazed. "What you said to me over the radio that night," Matt almost seemed to be shaking, his fists clamped together. "Not everyone deserves a happy ending." The red-clad vigilante concluded chillingly. Fisk's face was etched with confusion, and then he forced the pieces together.

"You!" He exclaimed, as one of his men began to shoot the ceiling of the truck.

It was a blur; Alicia and Matt dashed from the truck, Alicia landing heavily on the guard. He tumbled, and she hit his head against the tarmac – his face split open, blood gushing over her gloved hands as the man fell into the black.

* * *

For a large man, Fisk was quick on his feet. He staggered down the street as fast as his confused state would allow and passed an alley. Doubling back, he staggered into the dingy side-street. The villain desperately tried to find a way into a building; some way to escape the two vigilantes chasing him. But there was no way other than to face his crime.

Alicia and Matt gently dropped into the alley, and Fisk boldly stood to face them; "I wanted to make this city...something better!" He gasped angrily, staggering forward ever so slightly. Matt protectively stepped in front of Alicia, but she stepped away from him, scowling internally – now was not a moment for pride, and although she hated it and knew why Matt was being protective, she couldn't deny her strong independence. She could handle herself.

"Something beautiful!" Fisk roared, saliva spraying at each word. He was like a rabid animal. An enraged, rabid animal. A trapped animal.

"You both took that away from me! You!" He pointed with a trembling hand toward Alicia, who internally shrunk, reminding herself it wasn't just her any more – it was the child she carried. "You killed Wesley! It's your fault he's dead! I'm going to kill you, and your little boy too!" He roared. Matt was still, and Alicia's breathing was heavy. The air was thick with tension as Matt finally whispered; "Take your shot."

With that, Fisk came barrelling toward them.

It amazed the couple how easily they worked together. Matt, with pure strength behind each blow, Alicia, with agility and ability to weaken her opponent. Matt quickly threw Fisk onto his back heavily, and Alicia flipped sideways, kicking Fisk in the face. His nose exploded, red gushing over his features. The duo began punching, when the large murderer caught Alicia by the neck and rammed his knee into her face. She grimaced, falling away as he kneed Matt also, who had been thrown off when Alicia had fallen.

When she finally got her vision to came, Matt had been thrown against a dumpster, into walls and was now lying on the ground, Fisk looming above him. Alicia landed a punch to the back of Fisk's skull and he quickly spun around, attempting to grab her – she dodged him as Matt stood, landing punch after punch to Wilson Fisk. The crook was thrown atop a crate, and was still before grabbing an iron rod; smacked the side of Matt's head viciously. Sparks flew, and Alicia emitted an unexpected roar of fury.

About to kill Fisk, Matt took the two sticks he held and savagely hit the larger man across the face. Blood flew, staining the alley wall in a red angry liquid.

* * *

With a Goliath like strength, Fisk held Matty above his head. With an animal like roar, he threw Matt to the concrete. Raising the rod above his head, Wilson repeatedly brought it down.

"This city," another lashing, "doesn't deserve," another slam of the rod upon Matt's tired body as Alicia quietly picked up the spare iron stick, Fisk totally preoccupied with the devil, "a better tomorrow!" He screamed. "It deserves to drown! It's filled with people like my father, like you!"

Between the beatings, Matt had had enough. He grabbed Fisk's arm, ramming a boot into his shoulder.

"This is my city!" He growled breathlessly, jumping to his feet as Fisk stumbled back; Alicia whacked his delicate shoulder with her rod, and when he fell to his knees – she placed the sharp end against his jugular. Her ears rang, her vision hazy as she considered ripping open his throat and letting his life spill across the white concrete. Fisk's lips moved, but she couldn't hear his speech. She was too busy planning her revenge. But she couldn't describe what was holding her back – then she heard it.

"-He's not worth it!" Matt insisted, his hand on her shoulder. "Don't damn yourself over someone so unimportant." Alicia's hand wavered, weighing her options.

"...Fuck..." She muttered, and with a snarl she ripped the rod away from his throat; and rammed the rod into his shoulder. Blood stained his dark coat and gushed over her hands as he howled in pain, with a punishing blow, Matt knocked him out cold.

Alicia panted, staring at her coated gloves, the red sticky substance glistening in the street light and cold dread washing over her as she realised; she wanted Fisk dead, and she needed him dead. She needed revenge, and Matt wouldn't let her.

Deep down, she knew this would lead to a power-struggle between the duo.

The truth was what would they do to win?

* * *

 **Author's Note: Season One arc may be over but I have a few oneshot ideas and storylines in mind to keep going until Season Two so never fear, Quinzel is here**!


	17. Chapter 17

**Four Months Later...**

Matt could hear her excited heartbeat on the stairs before she thundered up the last remaining steps and burst into the room.

"Matty it came!" She shrieked happily, and Foggy came out of the kitchen with a daze express as a flurry of Alicia and a package ran past. Cupping her finally showing stomach, she dashed across the room, bags and bags of Christmas shopping rattling away as she placed the brown box on the table, and took the box cutter Karen held out to her with a smile.

"I'm so excited!" Karen grinned; clapping her hands together as Matt chuckled, wandering out from his office with a white mug in hand. His injuries had healed since their altercation with Fisk (after which, he had gone crazy with anger that Alicia had fought despite the pregnancy. She was just that stupidly stubborn.) He drew closer, placing down the mug as Foggy followed.

Soon, the four adults huddled around the lowly table as with a deep breath, Alicia sliced the brown tape. Everything was still before she reached in and took the white mould out. "Oh Matty, its beautiful..." Alicia whispered, taking her boyfriend's hands in hers and placing the block into his palms.

Matt's fingers felt across the mould, and was breathless when his fingertips found what he was looking for; the shape of his newborns face. And they were utterly beautiful, and he sniffed deeply as his eyes filled with tears of joy. He felt Foggy's grasp on his shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. Alicia took his hand, and wrapped his arm around her.

"We're parents, Matty." She whispered, and his arm tightened around her waist.

"I love you, Alicia." He heard her sniff deeply, wiping her running nose. Her hair brushed his chin as she nodded.

"I love you too, Matt." She responded and he pulled her close, kissing her softly.

He returned to his baby's face, and could feel the small fingers further down. The baby was so _small,_ so _dainty_ and so vulnerable. But Matt wouldn't let anyone hurt his child; not Wilson Fisk, not Nobu, not anyone as long as Matt was there. He was Jack Murdock's son, and he had the strength of a Murdock. He realised it didn't matter anymore; none of the fighting, revenge, nothing – sure, he was still devoted to protecting Hell's Kitchen and the innocent. But in that moment, he became a devoted protector to both Alicia, but more importantly; his child. His vulnerable child who could possibly be the death of him.

But he didn't care, either way.

* * *

A whirlwind of emotions coursed through Alicia as she watched Matt sitting on the couch of their apartment, still holding the 3D model of their child in his hands. He had changed into a dark grey t-shirt now, and black tracksuit bottoms, though. Tonight would be a rare night he wouldn't scourge the kitchen of the evil that befell it. She was happy, thrilled, excited and elated all at once. But honestly, she was a little _scared._ She didn't realise how out of her depth she was until now, and nervousness twisted her stomach.

"What's the matter?" Matt suddenly asked, and Alicia jumped slightly as she turned away from the fridge to find he was standing next to her. The model lay carefully on the kitchen table. He was as quiet as a damn shadow. She sighed, brushing back a strand of her bob. It had grown since she had chopped it off, and now lay just below her jaw. Smiling, she felt Matt's hands on her shoulders, steering her to the couch. He gently pushed her down.

"I'm just worried that I'm not able to be a mother. Like I know it's probably just jitters or whatever, but I still feel it." She admitted, and Matt smiled slightly.

"You'll be brilliant, Alicia. I have faith in you, absolutely, that you will be a brilliant Mother." Matt promised, and she curled up as he sat down and placed a head down on his shoulder. His arms held her close, as he reached behind him. Alicia closed her eyes.

Everything was silent except for their breathing, until Matt said; "Open your eyes."

Frowning, she opened them. To find an open black velvet box sitting on her knee with the most simplistic and beautiful engagement ring Alicia had ever seen.

"M-Matt?" She stuttered as he lifted her gently off of him, and slid down onto one knee.

"Alicia Kavanagh; we have done things, not a lot of people could imagine. But I didn't expect to be doing it with you. Someone I loved, more than anything itself. I want you to be with me during everything, and anything. I want to be there, for everything and anything for you as well. Do me the honour of being my wife, and I will love you until I die," He murmured softly, and Alicia smiled through her tears.

Falling to her knees gently, Alicia placed her hands on either side of his face. Pulling off his glasses, and laying them on the coffee table, she kissed him passionately. "I take that's a yes?" He cheekily asked, and Alicia laughed.

"It is most definitely, most certainly, a yes." Alicia cried as Matt grinned, slipping the ring onto her finger. She gazed at it lovingly, wrapping an around his shoulders.

She never wanted to let go. And when their kid was born, she wasn't going to let her child suffer for any mistakes their parents made.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hey! I hope you all had a BRILLIANT Christmas and an even better New Years! I'm really sorry for updating, I've been so busy with Christmas, school and family and stuff, but I'm back now I promise. I'll be updating other stuff, maybe even upload some new stuff...? I also started watching Hannibal, and finished it...oops, so that should explain my absence. Anyway, enough babbling! I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it, and love you all lots!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Five Months Later…**

Matt fingers lovingly cradled at his infant child's fingers, the ones wrapped firmly around his index finger. His daughter, Lucy Mary Murdock, as she lay sleeping soundly and blissfully unaware of the world around her in her hospital cradle – the cold plastic reflected the light as he gently tweaked her pink hat gently with his free hand to preserving heat. His heart swelled calmly, and adoringly, as he heard her gently heartbeat. Alicia was asleep, and wouldn't need him. But now, it was him and Lucy. Lucy needed him, and he prayed he'd always be the person she reached out to grab for help.

Matt knew without a doubt both Alicia and he would do anything for their daughter, and they both loved her so much they couldn't describe. "You're going to be loved more than anyone thought possible." Matt's gravelly promised, and his infant stirred at the sound of her Father's voice. He chuckled, eyes filling with happy tears.

* * *

Alicia lay in her hospital bed, and tiredly, opened her eyes. She frowned, a black shape standing at the end of her bed. Mumbling, she shook her head and rubbed her eyes, before looking back in that direction – to find the same shape there. But it was a man, with a white skull plastered across his chest. He was standing over her, a look of muted fury on his face. The clipboard to do with Lucy was open at the bottom of the bed.

Alicia gasped as he took a sudden step forward, and hurriedly taking herself off the IV and machinery, she ran.

The hospital was deserted, and she avoided the Nurses station as she weaved her way through wards to the new-born's area. The door was locked when she arrived, the room dim, and as silent as possible she picked the door, breaking the clip off a pen to do so. Creeping steadily into the room, she searched the rows for her baby. When she found Lucy, she gently lifted her child into her arms. Lucy gurgled softly but barely made a sound as Alicia stole a nurse's uniform and dressed herself. Then, taking a doctor's coat, she wrapped the baby in it, pressing the baby's bare face to her chest protectively.

* * *

The rain was falling heavy now as she ran up the steps of the closest Church. The door was opened a sliver, a weak light calling to her as she grew closer. Pushing the heavy oak further open, she slipped inside.

It was dim, and a Priest sat on the first pew at the top.

"Father!" Alicia called, surprisingly loud in the church as her bare feet slapped against the tiles. He rose, utterly shocked as the woman flew toward him. She grew close, panting, hair sticking to her face and clothes soaked through.

"Father, you have to help me there's someone after my baby and me, please take my daughter," She begged, and the father stared at her with disbelief. He was a young man, surprised at the sudden arrival of the woman. He nodded, confused, and gently took Lucy from Alicia as the doors rumbled. Alicia carefully tucked Lucy's hospital bracelet into her pocket as she ordered the Priest to run.

The Priest disappeared into a small, hidden side door as the doors were shoved open. Alicia was close to tears, horror causing bile to rise into her mouth. What if it was Fisk? Or he sent someone after them, knowing that Lucy was born. It was all too dangerous. Alicia's heart hammered as the shape appeared, hood over his eyes. Alicia took her bracelet off, and Lucy's, and kissing Lucy's softly, she mumbled; "I'm sorry, love."

She shoved both bracelets in a donation box as the masked figure began to jog toward her, and she rushed forward, tripping and hitting her skull against the hard floor.

Everything went black, and all she could think of was her daughter's sleeping face.


	19. Chapter 19

When she woke, she was lost. It was unfamiliar – in fact, everything was. She didn't know where she had come from, where she was going and it was entirely disorientating. Lost, she scrambles to remember who she is.

She grasped for a memory and nothing came forth except for one name. A simple, generic name; _**Matt.**_

What it meant, she had absolutely no clue.

She could feel a hard mattress underneath her, and a single pillow supporting her head. The blankets have been kicked to the bottom of the bed, her legs twisted in a sheet. Opening her eyes, she found herself met with nearly solid black – the only light weakly coming through a single, small window at the bottom of the room.

Pulling back the blankets, the only sound in the room her breathing – heavy and ragged – she stood up and felt the wall beside the bed and above it. Her fingers hit a hard object, and she winced as her fingertips brushed over the shape.

Above her bed, she felt the shape of a crucifix and felt an odd sense of familiarity and comfort wash over herself. Taking it from its perch, she cautiously stepped off the bed. The cold wooden floor creaked underneath her bare feet as she stumbled toward the window, and prided it open. In the dim light, the city was alive.

Not at all afraid, and wearing an unfamiliar grey tracksuit, she slipped outside onto the fire escape. Peering back into the room, breathing with relief at the escape from the confining dark, she found a pair of slip on canvas runners on the windowsill.

After slipping them on, she examined her clothing for any sign of who they belonged to – her, she presumed. Maybe it had her name on them.

Methodically, she examined her tank top, hoodie and tracksuit bottoms. No name, except for the label of "Property of Convent of the Sacred Dominican Sisters." Something stirred inside her, and she felt the familiar sense of comfort that she felt when she gazed at the cross that was still clenched in her fist.

She was in a Nunnery. Surely she wasn't a nun? Maybe she was, since the religious imagery sparked such a sense of reassurance in her; but maybe she wasn't? Crosses are a fairly common, unchanging thing. Maybe because it was just a very set thing she felt so drawn to it?

Whichever it was, she couldn't tell. All she knew was that she had to leave, and find out who she was and fast. Fear, excitement and dread soared within her as she skilfully crawled down the ladder, and dropped into the alley below. The soles of her feet stung as she landed, but she quickly recovered and with sudden fear of the unknown, she threw herself onto the street.

Crowds and crowds of people rushed at her from all sides, talking and confusing her. She could not escape the noise and hubbub and she felt like she was about to suffocate. Clutching her crucifix, she pushed through and ran, for as long, and for as far as her legs would carry her.

She was in Times Square, and felt sick as the neon lights flashed around her and seemed to leer at her from above. There was too much, all at once, and her eyes couldn't remain on the same face or single sign for more than a few minutes without needing to blink harshly and look away.

"Lady, you OK?" A police officer appeared at her elbow, and something inside her screamed to stay away from him. She had done wrong – she was a sinner, a terrible one – she needed to get away or she'll be arrested. She backed away, disorientated and her vision hazy.

He stepped closer, concerned – concerned to arrest her, her mind screamed as her heart thudded in her chest and she took off running yet again.

Her lungs burned, her muscles cried and yet she continued.

Crying, she sunk down in a doorway. This street was quiet, and fear began to bite at her heels. But she ignored it – she was nobody, someone with no identity and no memory; nothing and if something happened, she doubted someone would miss her.

If someone cared so much, how did she find herself alone in a Nunnery, without even a scrap of personal possessions and without even her own clothing?

Sighing, angry tears rolling down her face, she failed miserably to keep herself warm. The cold numbed her to sleep, and finally she drifted into a dreamless abyss.

When she woke, she wasn't in the Nunnery.

She was in someone's apartment, and she wasn't alone.

* * *

Tiredly, Matt stumbled into his apartment. He heard Foggy and Karen's heartbeats, and the new-found, beautiful heart beating alongside – his daughter's.

Four days ago, a police officer called him. Alicia was gone, last seen in a church two blocks from the hospital, and the priest had Lucy. The priest said she was being chased, and had hid her hospital bracelet – along with Lucy's – into a donation box. That's how the baby had been so swiftly identified, Alicia too.

Matt had been in the police station ever since, working tirelessly to find his fiancée. So far, she hadn't been seen. It was if she were sand, in a dark and windy world; gone as soon as she appeared.

He had to find why she had run – she was _happy_ before she disappeared, she was safe; was she dead!? Matt didn't know, and it terrified him.

"Matt, you're home." Foggy greeted as his friend came into the sitting room. Both he and Karen sat perched on the couch. Lucy was in her car seat, placed on the coffee table. There was a soft coo, and a tight smile was brought to Matt's face.

"Any news?" Karen nervously asked, and Matt sadly shook his head.

"Someone matching her description was seen by an officer in Times Square – but they weren't sure, it was only a quick glimpse before she took off running." He sighed, placing his keys down on the table with a small clatter.

"They'll find her, Matt – and we'll be here for you." Karen promised, and Foggy nodded in agreement.

"I appreciate it, guys…but I've had a long day." He pointedly added, and both of them taking the message, hurriedly scurried out of the apartment.

Locking the front door, Matt sank down in front of his daughter. He could hear the sound of her breathing, and his heart swelled with happiness – but sadness poisoned it, a bitter taste on his tongue.

He just wished Alicia was here beside him.

* * *

 **A/N: GUYS DAREDEVIL SEASON 2 IN SEVEN DAYS? I'm so excited I can't begin to explain it; I CAN'T WAIT FOR PUNISHER! I wrote this just now so sorry if it isn't great, I just felt inspiration to do it after I saw the ad on Netflix for season 2!**


	20. Chapter 20

_**Quick A/N:**_ **GUYS DAREDEVIL? It's amazing; I've been pressuring everyone I know to watch just so I can talk about it with them! Holy god I've cried a few times already and I'm not even entirely finished…Anyway, there's** _ ***BARELY SPOILERS***_ , **just so you know.**

* * *

When her eyes opened, she immediately felt there was someone with her. Slowly, the room filled her senses – heavy breathing, a shuffle once in a while; a dog. She prayed it wasn't an angry one, or it was chained.

Her gaze up at the stained ceiling, as she gently rose with a deep breath; it's the defining moment in this foreign land, debating on lying back, and to take whatever was coming, or to turn toward the unknown face first.

Sitting like prey to be slain wasn't her favourite option, and she felt herself tur n to the room.

She was sitting in the centre of the armoury filled apartment, sat a man she didn't recognize. A blue Pitbull lay at his feet, his grey head resting between his front legs. He raised his head eagerly as he noticed the woman lying on the mattress stir, and galloped over to her hurriedly to lick her nose.

"He likes you." The man muttered, setting down his bottle of water. Her heart beat pounded behind her eyes, and she swallowed, trying to quench her dry throat. Eyes darted around the room, desperately looking for a way out.

Everything in the room, every single weapon and round ammunition and bullet was in his range. And not in hers – he could kill her at any second, but instead, he clicked his tongue and the dog trotted back to his master.

She was still wearing the other clothes she had fallen asleep in, except the canvas runners were sitting at the bottom of the grimy mattress, and her dirty hoodie had been replaced with a black sweatshirt. Pulling back the sheet that had been wrapped around her for a blanket, she freed her legs cautiously.

She was preparing to bolt, he knew that, and he calmly and carefully stood, walking toward her. Lurching forward, she collided with him at a great impact. His arms quickly caught her before the ground met the back of her skull, and gently he lay her back down on the bed.

Fuming would not describe the anger on her features, as she scurried toward the wall, far away from him as he sat at the bottom. "Your name is Alicia. You're safe here, I promise you."

Her anger came to a boil, and she glared at him, "How the hell do I know you won't kill me, huh? Your apartment is like military Mike has set up camp!" She threw her hands up, tears welling in her eyes.

Why can't she remember anything!? How does she know he isn't lying to her, that he's really some psychopath who wants to kill her and make suspenders with her guts?

Drawing her legs to her chest, and wrapping her arms around herself protectively, Alicia, if that even was her name, felt herself give up – she couldn't see a way out, and a way to trust this man. But Alicia quietly told herself, _you have to; he's your only shot._

Sighing, she found her eyes back on his face. Black eyes, under heavy brows, stared at her with an intense gaze. He edged closer to her, moving from the bottom and heavily planted himself beside her. The mattress dipped beside her as he outstretched his legs and laid his back against the wall.

"Who the hell am I?" Alicia quietly asked, and silence fell over the pair for a moment as the man next to her seemed to struggle to form a sentence. They stared off into the air with slouched shoulders.

"You're Alicia, you were born in Hell's Kitchen, and your folks are dead. You're Alicia, and we're gonna get revenge on the scum eating bastard that killed your grandmother." He stonily told her, his fist gripping the sheet furiously.

A pang of sadness spread across Alicia's chest, as she noticed how hateful he was. Why was so much anger and energy necessary? Alicia knew anger dwelled in her, anger over a death – now with a name to a wound, she felt the pain inside – but still, she felt sadness at the sight of his white knuckles.

Her anger was an old ailment in the body of human emotion and complexity, but his was new and fresh, one he was still struggling to overcome. It had festered in his isolation, or at least had been allowed flourish in neglect. Was he really so alone?

Her loss was not the only thing fuelling his anger, but it was not fuelling his pain. That was something else entirely – a pain only he shared. It wasn't her grief to feel woe over; but yet she did.

Nervously, with obvious hesitation, she placed her hand over his fist. He stiffened, and Alicia held her breath; but he didn't lash out and didn't attempt to hurt her. Alicia didn't even know his name, but she felt something demand a reaction within her – and this was the most appropriate in her opinion.

He was unhinged, she could tell, and despite the bitter aftertaste of fear she made him meet her gaze.

"Whoever did this, they will get what they deserve." Alicia wasn't talking about her own grief, she knew that and she swore to him, but didn't specify whether or not the police – who she, despite herself, feared for an unknown reason – would handle the situation in the fear of setting him off. She didn't want to make him feel out of control.

He seemed a person the system failed. Sadly, he was not the first, or the last.

"Oh I know they will," he fumed, "I'm gonna give them _exactly_ what they deserve."

"What's your name?" Alicia asked, carefully retracting her hand from his, the moment of tenderness gone – she was not dealing with a tender person, but a hard one; but maybe he wasn't always this. If she could name him, it could spark something. Alicia would be able to tell if the flicker of softness in those eyes was in her head, or it really was the man before her and was he really just someone who was hurt, and just needed the right words to be taught.

She hoped it was the latter.

"Frank." He replied, standing and heading toward the kitchen. Or rather, the barely functioning mini-fridge in the corner, and she followed him.

The room danced, but gripping her eyes shut for a moment, and reopening her lids, it ceased. Trailing against the wall, Alicia followed Frank to the fridge. Hovering a safe distance away, she brushed a strand of loose hair back over her ear.

"Who are you to me, Frank? A brother, a cousin?" She wasn't sure if she wanted to know the answer.

Then it hit her; the smell of dust in her nostrils, the monotone lull of hushed voices filling her ears and an echo of footsteps bouncing off a cavernous ceiling. A church, she thought, as in her mind's eye she gazed at the pews awkwardly. In a jerky moment, the memory seared with embarrassment, pain, loss and grief, she found the face of sixteen year old Francis Castiglione staring down at her.

Hands, her hands, gripped a large frame in the memory, a wafting black and white dream behind her eyes, the picture of a man no more than thirty-five – a man Alicia loved, but she did not know why.

Fuzziness clouded her brain, hurting her mind and she cut the memory short, relieving herself from the discomfort of forcing herself to remember.

Frank was staring at her now, before shaking his head briskly. "No, I ain't your cousin or your brother." He simply explained, the dog circling around his legs. Alicia rested her head against the wall, watching the Pitbull's smiley face and wagging tail with red eyes.

"Then what are you? I only remember a sixteen year old boy," She tiredly told him, and he stared at the table.

"You hardly decided to catch up with an old amnesia-stricken friend for the hell of it in your makeshift Pentagon."

Frank was silent still, mulling over his words. What was he supposed to tell her? That he was a supposed sociopath killing mobsters?

He had a vendetta against those who took his joy away, and those who took away hers.

"What do you remember of me?" He asked, hands on his hips as he faced her. His face was cut, swollen on the cheek and bruised under the eye. Alicia studied his features, the squat nose and harsh lips, dark eyes and stoic resting face – he wasn't testing her, he genuinely wanted to know. This was her one bargaining chip; what she knew, or rather, what she pretended to know.

She handed this over.

"I remember a church, and you're sixteen and I have no clue other than that." She admitted, massaging her temples. Frank nodded thoughtfully, which Alicia took as a good sign. ' _He's either planning a big reveal or your murder – let's pray it's the first one, then. A big reveal could be a murder too though.'_

"That's your old man's funeral. That's when we met." He returned to the table, but the dog lost attention on him and instead focused on rubbing against Alicia. She leaned down and patted his head.

Frank stared at the wooden surface in front of him; he could fabricate an entire life for them together, he could say anything to her and she would believe him. He had to lie to keep her safe from the Devil of Hell's Kitchen - he had seen the Devil fall across her path before.

"Frank? Are you alright?" She gently asked, her hand resting on the dog's skull. He nodded, running a hand over his face with exasperation. He didn't like the idea of her seeing him weak.

He was supposed to be merciless, a man to kill the wicked and protect the innocent. That's all he should be.

' _I'm sorry…I'm just keeping her safe.'_ He apologised to the face in his mind, and turned back to Alicia. She stood straight, the dog guarding her, and he remembered all those years ago when she had looked upon him with swimming eyes – and his heart broke at the sight.

Lying was the only way to protect her, to make sure she wouldn't leave and trust him entirely.

"You're my wife. There is someone after you, but the bastard won't get you, I'm going to stop him. That's what all this shit is about. To keep you alive, but you need to trust me, got it?" He told her abrasively, and Alicia felt her eyes widen with shock. He was wearing a wedding band, she supposed; did she lose hers?

She scrambled to remember anything, a shred of proof that he was who he said he was. Another memory floated to the surface; they're sitting on a couch, and she's feeling emotional, why, she couldn't remember. But a voice, distorted, tells her to open her eyes.

There, sitting on a black-clad knee was an engagement ring. In the memory, her vision became blurred with tears as her eyes fall upon a face.

The face is blurred, whether it's her vision or memory, but it's fragmented nonetheless – a tinge of red is across the eyes, and it confused her, but she persisted still through the memory, and squeezing her eyes tightly she forced herself to remember.

Frank's face is staring at her, like before, waiting.

She wasn't putting his face into the memory, was she…? Surely he would've looked happier proposing to her? The red twinge plagued her, but she shook her head. It was him.

Frank was standing in front of her again, leaning against the wall. He was her only chance at remembering _anything._ Frank could be talking entire lies to her, but she had to know. She had to try.

"I trust you."

* * *

 **Extended Author's Note** **: I don't even know if Frank was wearing a wedding band in Daredevil, he probably isn't, but he is in this. I tried my best to avoid to REALLY explain what happened in Central Park, but comic-book fans, or even people who just researched Punisher will know what happened…but I'll stay quiet for the people who don't. There isn't really spoilers in this chapter, more just the fact you now know he has a dog.**

 **(P.S Francis Castiglione is Frank Castle's real name in the comics, but he changed it to go on a 3rd tour of either Iraq or Afghanistan. I can't remember which.)**


	21. Chapter 21

Matt hadn't dreamed this vividly in a long time.

He felt grass underneath his cheek before he saw the dream world before him. He was in on a hill, the city world miles off in the distance and mute to him. Only the gentle shush of trees whispered to him, the blue of the sky before him hurting his eyes. He treasured these dreams, like he treasured the memories of when he could properly see the world before him in colour and its beauty.

"Finally, you're awake." A familiar voice set his heart still as he shot up to find Alicia sitting on the grass in a white lace dress. Her shoulders were bare, her sandy brown hair brushing the skin.

He stared in shock at her, and reached out to her. She merely smiled, her eyes twinkling as her attention returned to something before her. Matt noticed the Moses Basket set before her, and found Lucy lay inside, wrapped in a gauze-like blanket.

Matt had seen this image in a magazine when he was younger, with the promise of an ideal family as its tagline. This was his ideal world; Alicia there with him, his daughter safe and with her parents. His ideal world was how it should be, before Alicia ran away and went too far - so far, she can't find her way home.

Lucy cried briefly, but Alicia gently shushed her with tender words and soft promises.

Finally, Matt reached them, and felt his arms around her waist, his faced buried in the crook of her neck. With a blink, Lucy was in her mother's arms and he could gaze down at her delicate face.

He sighed contently, her tussled hair brushing against his cheek.

"You need to stay awake, Matty." She whispered into his ear, and he frowned.

"But I'm asleep, Ali." He mumbled, soaking in the moment with a serene expression. She laughed, reaching back and running her calloused fingers through his hair. With the other arm, she cradled Lucy.

"You're passed out, Matt, on a roof. You've got a blow to the head from the Punisher, and your helmet is wrecked. You need to stay awake, Matt. Matt. Matt." She repeated his name, and gradually he realised it wasn't her any more whispering his name. His nose crinkled in confusion and dull annoyance at his fantasy being disrupted.

There was someone shouting his name now, and turning him onto his back, but they seemed awfully far away from the family on the hill. They still yelled his name repeatedly, and he realised it was Foggy.

"Come home, Alicia. Please." He pleaded, before laying a kiss on her cheek.

She looked at him with sorrow, but a soft smile still adorned her lips. "I'm lost, Matty. But I'll try." She swore, his mind taking these words from different memories and stringing them together to give some solace. But maybe she was trying hard to come home, he couldn't tell; he hoped she was.

"I love you." He mumbled, as he was slammed back into the real world by Foggy slapping his chest.

He didn't want to feel the harsh pain his body was suffering – all he wanted was to be back on the hill with his family. Wherever the other part of his family was, he wanted to be there.

Matt didn't want to be anywhere else.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I'm really sorry about the constant uploads, but I'm on a roll since I'm on holidays; also, Daredevil? It's all I can think about.** **I'm probably going to upload another one tomorrow, because I'm really getting into a good rhythm and I also have exams when I go back so I may not have time then.  
**


	22. Chapter 22

**Author's Note:** **Pretty much from here on in, expect there to be _spoilers_ for the new season.**

* * *

The city lights were the only thing keeping the room dimly lit, and Alicia lay on her side. Her arms were tucked comfortably underneath her head. The sheet was tangled around her feet, and she frowned as she watched Frank lie down on the floor. It was late; about four AM, and he was opting to sleep on the floor?

"Frank?" She called softly, and he looked toward her. The weak light fell across his face, illuminating the gashes across his face. "What're you doing over there?" Alicia asked gently.

"Going to sleep." He told her, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. She shook her head, and standing, she wandered over to him.

"You don't have to sleep on the floor. It'll kill your back." Alicia insisted, and Frank hung his head for a moment, unsure. Sighing, he caved in and stood.

He followed Alicia to the mattress, where she lay down on the edge to give him space. There he lay next to her rigidly on his back, hands firmly placed by his sides – unmoving. Soon, Alicia felt herself drift off.

But Frank remained awake in the dark, the quiet whizzing of cars passing outside and Alicia's breathing filling the room. But as her breathing filled his ears, slowly and steadily, he began to relax. Pulling the sheet over them, he closed his eyes, and pretended he was back in the house.

It was no longer Alicia beside him, but Maria. If he wanted to open his eyes, he could walk out the door and go down the hall to Lisa's room and Frank Jr's just a little further down. He could open the door to Lisa's, and see the pink walls – or was it purple? Frank quickly avoided her room, fearing the fact he couldn't remember.

Frank may have even gotten up earlier then everyone else; if it was a Saturday, he would be lying downstairs next the piano in a pile of cookie crumbles. He had played soldiers, fighting to protect his cookies from imaginary enemies.

With his eyes still firmly shut in his imaginary world, Frank felt the brush of hair on his cheek as Alicia – Maria – rolled into him in her sleep. The sheet slipped away from her and she mumbled. Frank brought it up to her chin blindly.

When he woke, she was in his arms. It wasn't Maria, but it was Alicia. She was in his arms, her hand clutching the back of his sweatshirt tightly as if it were her life support. But despite his mind churning, his body was far too relaxed.

It was if they were a normal couple in his dazed state, waking up on a lazy morning; but his eyes fell back onto the crates of weapons, and the fantasy went cold.

He rolled Alicia onto her back, and quickly escaped from her. Shutting the bathroom door was the only way he could truly be in privacy while she was there, and he washed his face with cold water hurriedly.

Frank couldn't grow any more attached. He remembered her Grandmother, Mary, clutch his hand in the church after the funeral; how her skin felt like crinkled sugar paper. Alicia was so like Mary; not physically, but they both had that gentle smile that was self-taught and that careful but warming touch.

He needed to protect the innocent and that's why he saw everything so plainly. Alicia was good, the Devil wasn't. Irish Cartel needed to be punished, along with any other criminal, but Alicia did not, nor did any other lawful person.

Staring at his face, those eyes he hated, he felt scared again – because maybe if he could protect Alicia, she'd be his redemption and he would be one step closer to fixing his mistake; one step closer to being forgiven for not being able to save his family.

"Frank…where are you?" Her voice called, muffled through the door.

* * *

The store was mainly quiet. Frank was outside and with the hundred dollars he shoved into her hand she was quickly scurrying around, grabbing essentials and keeping a total in her mind. At this present moment, all she had was the clothes on her back.

They were already worthy of going in the trash, between squatting in doorways and the tattered sweatshirt, she needed new ones.

Alicia didn't think Frank got the money legally, but she didn't ask questions; she didn't want to set him off.

"Police are still on a manhunt for the vigilante known as the 'Punisher', who has been hunting out members of several gangs and crime syndicates, and has caused the eruption of a mass surge in Gangland violence," The radio on the counter next to the cash register said, and Alicia's ears perked up. Casually, she edged toward the men's coats to get a better range. "New York City police are urging anyone with information to step forward, full confidentially guaranteed."

She felt cold sweat trickle down her spine, a shiver running over her. Her mind flashed back to the weapons, the suspiciously dark stains on the t-shirt thrown in the sink.

It was safe to presume Frank was Punisher.

The money felt suddenly heavy in her hand as she grabbed her basket and began to walk toward the counter when something caught her eye. It was the jewellery stand, mostly cheap and tacky accessories, but there was one thing sitting at the top.

It was very simple, and quite cheap, but it tugged at the corner of her mouth and brought a smile to her face. It was a slender knock-off of a gold wedding band, the kind married people wore.

She included it with her other purchases and as she left the store, slipped it on quietly.

Frank was leaning against a wall, waiting. He took the bag from Alicia when he spotted it, and did not question what she bought nor asked for change – instead he quickly marched ahead, and she followed hastily.

After twenty minutes, and Alicia eventually catching up with his longer strides, they stopped outside a pet store. They both went inside, the plastic bag bumping off Frank's thigh.

Alicia wandered around the dimly lit store as Frank asked for dog food. The owner cooed softly when he heard the dog was a blue Pitbull, commenting on its robust stature.

"Does he have a name?" The owner asked, scratching under his chin. Frank was silent, but Alicia piped up, pulling a random name out of her mind.

"Wade. His name is Wade." She told him, smiling softly as the pair at the counter stared at her momentarily. The assistant smirked, placing the dog food on the counter.

"Ah, a fine name for a fine breed." The assistant chuckled, and Frank tightly smiled back.

Alicia felt his eyes on the back of her head as she spoke softly to a parrot, who squawked back in response. Suddenly, Frank was at her elbow, the large sack underneath his arm.

"We need to go." He whispered lowly, and she nodded, taking the shopping bag.

* * *

Back in the apartment, Frank was preparing to go. Alicia sat on the mattress, the can of spaghetti hoops at her foot on the floor. Wade lay asleep on her lap and once in a while emitted a low snore. Alicia would let him sleep before she fed him.

"I'm gonna go. You OK, on your own?" He gruffly asked, and Alicia nodded, standing. She brushed down her new fleece pyjama bottoms as she watched him load a rifle. It scared her how little she was afraid of him. He only made her vaguely uneasy and she presumed that was just the unfamiliar world around her.

"I'll be fine." She promised, and he nodded, but still wasn't satisfied he was understood.

"Remember; no answering the door, no looking out the windows," he pulled the shutters over the grimy panes sharply, "and don't leave the apartment. Got it?" He looked toward her expectedly, and she nodded, meeting his gaze. "Here."

He held out a handgun to her along with a magazine. "…Thanks." She whispered, carefully taking them both from him.

"The ammo on that will go through anyone that goes near you. The kick's a bitch, but its better they're dead and you're on the ground," she nodded, and he held onto her wrist. "Look at me," she followed his order. "Don't open the door. I don't give a shit if it's Barrack Obama or Jesus Christ himself; you open that door, I can't protect you. Trust me, Alicia."

She stared at him for a moment, "I trust you." She firmly promised, and he released her wrists and Alicia placed the gun carefully down near the mattress, nowhere near Wade's reach.

As Frank pulled on his jacket, he winced and Alicia noticed the bloody gash on his arm. "Jesus," she grabbed his arm, and examined the cut carefully. He shook her off, pulling his jacket up, "you need to treat that." She insisted, but Frank ignored her.

"Don't open the door. Watch yourself and don't do anything stupid." He repeated, concealing his gun. He was nearly out of the door when Alicia's hand fell on his shoulder, pulling him back momentarily.

"Frank," he met her gaze, and she turned back and picked up a magazine. "One for good luck." She quietly told him, kissing the magazine's case and pressed it into his palm. He chuckled bitterly, pocketing it.

The door slammed as he left.

* * *

The city went dark quickly and all at once, and her limbs felt heavy as she waited for Frank to come back. Wade sat by the front door, protecting her.

Alicia was examining the apartment, picking up random (safe) objects to see if they'd reveal any shred of information about her personality; maybe about her interests or her life before whatever accident took these memories.

Her hand grabbed a spare pair of Frank's jeans, and shook them; a small object fell from the back pocket, and frowning, she crouched down.

It was a very simple engagement ring, and she grinned upon finding it; so she _hadn't_ lost her ring, Frank just had it.

She slid it on her finger over her band.

Her eyelids felt like lead, and she slowly let them drop, one hand off the bed and ready to grab her weapon at any moment – the door opened, and her lids flew open and her hands scrambled, grabbing up the gun.

Standing with feet hip width apart, she raised her weapon in defence; to find Frank pulling an unknown man into the apartment.

"Christ Frank!" She growled, placing down the gun and steadying herself against the wall. Her heart pounded, and her eyes burned.

"Get the chair." He asked her, and she jogged forward and pulled up the single chair as he harshly threw the stranger into the seat. He shut the door as Alicia backed away from the thrashing man. His arms were bound and his mouth free.

"Please, I'm nobody." The man whimpered pitifully, and Frank grabbed a fistful of the small hairs on his neck, and forced the man to look at Alicia.

"Tell her what you did! Tell her!" Alicia cringed at Frank's shouting, and had to look away momentarily as he broke the man's foot under his boot.

"I didn't know the old woman was there, I swear! She wasn't supposed to be there!" The man cried with his shirt and face bloody. Alicia felt cold dread seize her body as she realised.

"…You bastard." She muttered. The memory came quicker and with startlingly clarity; like it only had just happened.

Alicia found herself walking down a street, sighing to herself. In the memory, she wasn't looking up but was instead staring at her feet with a heavy weight on her chest; it had been a long day, she remembered, and wanted nothing more than a hug from Mary.

The worn steps appeared under her feet as she mounted them tiredly, humming softly to herself – then another foot came into her vision, then another. They were outstretched, and were attached to the dead body slumped against the front doors frame.

Mary's brown eyes were milky and staring at Alicia with an angry red mark screaming at her from between her eyebrows. Alicia's scream was distant in the memory, as if she was falling deaf slowly.

She snapped out of her mind, and found Frank was repeatedly punching her Grandmother's murderer. Crying was the last thing she wanted to do, but that's all she seemed to be able to comprehend.

"You like that, huh? You like feeling the pain you put on others?!" Frank demanded, his punches getting stronger with less time in between. Alicia's eyes swam as she pushed Frank aside and grabbed the man before her by his shirt. The blood soaked onto her hands, the smell disgusting and the texture even more so.

"Why?" Alicia demanded, shaking him jerkily, "why did she have to die? She didn't do anything wrong! She never did anything wrong – all she wanted to do was help people, to give people another chance; you took her chance away! You took her away from me! She was _**my**_ last chance!" Alicia was close to screaming, shaking him harder and faster.

"She was the only one I had left." Alicia broke down, wailing loudly as she let go and fell backwards – Frank caught her, and steadied her against his body. She was gasping now, for air, and for some form of solace. Frank clasped her hands together and pressed them against her chest, holding her to him as she struggled to regain control.

Soon her sobbing quietened down, the tears dried and Frank put her down on the mattress gently. It was the first time he had shown the slightest (true) softness toward her, and it was foreign.

He started to drag the man upstairs, and Alicia swiftly followed. "Go back inside." He ordered, but she shook her head.

"I have a right to see what happens to him." She stubbornly insisted and he didn't protest. Their feet were surprisingly stealthy on the stairs leading to the roof. Alicia opened the door to the attic, the cold air seeping into her pores and cooling her hot face as Frank dragged him over to a storage closet on the roof. He slammed the door and locked it, stowing away the cargo safely.

"Stay over by the edge," He ordered, pointing toward where a low, rectangle box sat. Alicia stood next to it, knowing full well that there was a gun inside – a big one. "Anything you hear, don't listen to it. It's all utter bullshit." Frank added, going over to a row of khaki tarp covered boxes.

That's when she saw him; he was unconscious and sitting against a chimney stack, heavy silver chains keeping him there should he wake. Alicia's blood ran cold as she gazed upon his lowered head, the red horns curled back and pointed toward the sky. But the red pulled something inside her, and the fear was mixed with a sense of relief.

Alicia wanted to rip the chains away, let the man run free over the roof tops and escape. But the light of the city caught on the knock-off band on her finger and she stopped. She could not remember anything of her life with Frank except the engagement and the funeral, but yet she felt bonded to him.

He wouldn't have protected her so much, hurt someone so badly for her if he wasn't something to her. Alicia didn't feel threatened by him; because she knew deep within that all he planned to kill were the wicked, and protect the innocent. He saw the world in very solid black and white – she would be in the morgue if she wasn't one of the good guys.

Avoiding the man chained to the chimney, she watched Frank. He sat down on the tarp covered boxes, facing the devil. Alicia sunk down to her haunches, and then silently sat down on the roof with her legs drawn up.

He was coming around, the man chained, and she held her breath. Frank took a sip from the Thermos's cup; it smelt like black coffee.

"Morning sunshine." Frank drawled.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Hey guys! I have a Spotify playlist for this story (I was really bored) and it's called, yes, you guessed it, "Hey There Delilah", so check it out if you want to see the tunes I'm listening to while I write these chapters. Some of them are explicit, so I apologise.**


	23. Chapter 23

Alicia winced at the sound of Frank sewing the gash between his upper arm and forearm. The cold was seeping through her pyjama bottoms, and she shivered – Frank's jacket was thrown on her lap, and she slipped it on. It smelt of sawdust and blood, and she ignored the stiff residue of dried blood on the inside of the left sleeve as she clutched it to her body.

"They say you don't hear the bullet that gets you, always thought that sounded like," Frank began, concentrating on the injury before him, "a bunch of bullshit to me…" he put the needle to his mouth, wetting his lips with blood as he sliced the thread with his knife, "how about you Red? When I cracked off your forehead the other night, you hear that?"

The devil was silent for a moment, before struggling against the chains and his feet kicking against the cement. He continued in vain, before giving up with a loud grunt and a desperate howl.

Frank shifted, unimpressed, "You can bash against the chains all night, only way you get out of here, only way you walk free is if I want you to. Know that." Frank told him simply, and Alicia twisted the rings on her fingers nervously underneath the jacket.

"Why didn't you take my mask off?" The man suddenly asked, and a revelation brutally crashed down on Alicia as she heard the man's voice.

 **Matt.**

The name was softly whispered in her mind, but it made her whole body want to scream. Alicia _knew._ But she stayed quiet. A mask was only worn for one reason; secrecy.

Her mind raced as memories, thoughts and emotions came flooding back as if they were stored safely away in a closet, and Matt's voice was the key she needed. Matt in his apartment, the light of the electric billboard shining around him as a halo, Matt who she loved and still did – Matt, father of her child, because with the memory of Matt came her daughter's delicate face.

 **Lucy.**

"You killed everyone else, why am I still alive?" Matt asked, his voice laced with exhaustion. Suddenly, the gold band on her finger felt very heavy under the engagement ring, the one she now knew Matt gave her. The face in her memory became clearer, and it was now apparent that it was Matt who gave her the ring; the red that tinged his eyes were his glasses.

Matt was blind. Red - red glasses and red suit.

"Eh?" Matt egged Frank on, "I've gotten in your way twice now. You don't strike me as someone who just lets that happen,"

Alicia watched Frank lift his body off the boxes and stand. He threw back the tarp to reveal crates of military weapons.

"Military grade hardware?" Matt asked as Frank cracked open the first box with his knife – Alicia wondered if Matt recognized her; no, she didn't wonder because she knew. Matt knew _exactly_ who she was. He was biding time.

"You seem to know your way around them. You sure carry stuff like a soldier," Frank didn't seem to be listening to Matt as he flipped the lid of the box off, and lifted two boxes of ammunition up and out of the crate.

He walked toward Alicia, and placed them down beside the long box. Alicia struggled to remember who Frank really was, but was confident in the knowledge he was everything he said he was; up until he told her that he was her husband.

He had been married to Maria, Alicia remembered being invited to the wedding; she was in the middle of exams, but Mary went. She had given them a set of silver cutlery as the gift from the family.

Mary had told her not long after they had a daughter, Lisa. Father Seamus told Alicia after Mary's death Frank had a son, Frank Jr.

It had just reminded Alicia how she didn't have a family.

Alicia felt her throat choke up as she realised that the loss Frank was suffering was not her own, she knew that before; but now she realised the pain he was feeling must have something to do with his family. The idea of children being – she couldn't even say the words in her minds as she thought of Lucy, and how she never wanted to put her daughter down. How the hell was Frank even functioning?

All a parent ever wanted to do was protect their child, and when she imagined failing to do that, for whatever reason, and Alicia felt the urge to comfort Frank. She remembered the boy from the church, from the hospital – he had life in his eyes. But when she looked at his dark eyes, all she had seen was black.

Frank Castle was lost inside himself.

Now in a twisted change of circumstances Alicia was the only one with a child.

"What are you going to do with all this?" Matt asked as Frank stood beside her, staring out over the city.

"I'm going to do what's required."

Silence fell across the three, but Alicia felt Matt's eyes on her. While Frank's back was turned, her eyes were fixed on the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. Matt's eyes lingered on her face, and she knew he understood. Quickly, she looked away.

Frank poured another cup of black coffee, and held it out to Alicia. She took it graciously, mumbling a thank you. She took a sip, and winced; there was definitely more than coffee in the cup.

"This another one of your missions?" Matt asked as Frank kicked open the nearest box to reveal a sniper gun. "What's where we're here isn't it? How many will this make?" Matty asked as Frank sighed heavily and sat down next to Alicia. "I'm guessing you've done this what, ten, maybe twenty times? How long's it been? Six months, a year? Or your whole life? Something tells you don't take breaks,"

Frank didn't listen, preparing the weapon before him. "You know no one else has to die. You can stop now," Matt urged him, "walk away. You can both walk away." Matt promised. Alicia watched Frank nervously, gripping the warm coffee under her chin. The heat washed over her face as she watched him put down the thermos next to her, and her eyes flickered to his – she could tell how much fear were in her own eyes, and so could he.

But it was really conflict she was feeling; Alicia was bound to Frank but loved Matt. She was loyal to a Murdock, but bound to a Castiglione, or whatever he called himself.

"Walk away?" Frank repeated the words like they were a bad taste in his mouth. "Could you do that? Would you walk away?" Matt was silent, and that answered Frank's question, "Yeah…"

Silence fell upon them again as Frank stood and cradling his gun, went past Matt and behind him. A church bell chimed in the distance, and Matt strained to hear.

"What is that? Midnight?" Matt inquired, as Alicia watched the two men carefully, ready to jump between them at the slightest altercation.

"St. Matthews." Frank shortly replied, pulling back the sheet to reveal more boxes.

Matt's lips spread into a grin. "Are you a Catholic?" He asked, looking toward Alicia for clarification. Making sure Frank was not watching, she silently nodded. Matt quickly looked back to Frank, who was kneeling now and examining the contents of his newly revealed boxes.

"Once." Frank admitted, and Alicia remembered the glint of a cross underneath his shirt at the funeral.

"From New York?" Matt asked.

Frank didn't look up; "Once."

Matt laughed. "You still go to mass?"

Frank didn't like where it was going, obviously, and he looked up into the night's sky with an expression of muted annoyance. Alicia spoke for the first time, her voice weak but firm.

"Stop talking." Alicia ordered, and the Devil shut his mouth. Frank stared at her for a moment, and she stared back. He was in control; he needed to know that for this to go smoothly and he _needed_ to know Alicia was on his side despite the fact she had no clue which side she should be on.

Both of the men before her had been good to her. She owed both.

Matt was silent for a moment, and Alicia sipped the coffee. It burnt her tongue and hurt her throat but it gave the extra kick she needed. The cold stiffened her joints, but she found herself incapable of going back downstairs. She needed to see what Frank was going to do to the captive; both Matt and the other.

Alicia felt sick as she watched the blood trick down Frank's arm.

"You know the funny thing about New York," Matt told him, despite Alicia's warning and Frank continued his work, "few people are actually from here, the ones who are…they don't leave, they can't, they feel like the city's apart of them, you know? Until one day something changes,

"They get older. And then they have to leave, they have to get out. See the world maybe. Maybe they enlist. Where'd they send you?" Matt asked, and Alicia blinked. He knew the man before him already.

"You a shrink, red?" Frank asked, and Alicia found the irony in the question – as the situation went on, she remembered more about herself; being a counsellor one of them. "C'mon! You must be something when you're not wearing the Long-Johns, right?" Frank jeered, and Alicia shifted uncomfortably – but pretended to be cold, drawing the cup closer to her face.

Matt shook his head, somewhat tiredly, "I'm just a guy." He told the Punisher, and Frank nodded.

"You ever been to war?" Frank asked grimly.

"No."

"Yeah…then don't talk 'bout it." Frank said threateningly, anger visible on his features.

But Daredevil couldn't take a hint.

"Seen some fights." Matt assured him with a rather smug face.

"….Sure you have." Frank drawled sarcastically.

Alicia resisted the urge to wince as the memory of Matt's face being pulverised by Fisk floated into her mind.

Suddenly, she felt the heavy weight of blood on her hands and soul.

A hand of a Martyr, for it was her own blood and Alicia for the first time didn't fear pain. She needed to go home to Lucy; she knew this, but if was to be hurt or maimed protecting her daughter, so be it.

Lucy was what mattered, and nothing would stop Alicia making it home to her daughter.

All she needed to do was to get away from this rooftop – but she needed to stop the two men she cared for from killing one another.

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **I am so terribly sorry this took longer then I expected, I'm just back at school and had a lot to focus on - but it's here now, and I hope you all enjoy!**


	24. Chapter 24

Alicia could remember plainly the argument her mother and father had before they died.

It was the last one she remembered them ever having, whether it was the first or last truly she'd never know – her life had been bliss, but thinking back perhaps maybe it wasn't; childlike memories tend to forget what they didn't understand.

They were unaware of her existence in the room when it happened – she had been playing in their bedroom, messing with her mother's wardrobes and jewellery; something she was explicitly told not to do. So that's why she hid under the bed when she heard the stampede of (angry) footsteps.

The oak door to their rather small room was flung open, and slammed shut as her parents feet came into view.

"Who is he!?" Her father's voice had screamed, and Alicia remembered being startled – her father did not scream, or raise his voice at all. With a childlike naivety and a curious nature, her ears begged to hear the noise that followed his question.

It was crying. Her father was crying as he sat down on the floor, back against the wall next to the door as her mother paced.

"He's from the office," her gentle voice explained – with an unusual coldness. "We started this a year ago..." She trailed off, ashamed. Alicia's father's breathing was ragged, and he swallowed to try and control it. Why would her mother say such things to hurt her father?

"I want custody of Ali." Her father suddenly said and at her level, she saw his jaw lock. At the young age, Alicia knew vaguely what was going on. She needed to go find her Grandmother, Mary, and get her parents to stop tearing their family apart.

"Absolutely not." Her mother retorted viciously, and her father angrily rose to his feet.

"I won't let you take her from me, Róisín; I won't be walked over anymore!" He yelled, and Mrs Kavanagh Junior stepped back as if her husband had gotten into her face. Alicia felt a wail begin to form in her chest and threaten to run up her throat.

"You're pathetic, Dermot – totally pathetic!" Her mother quipped, kicking over her vanity table's stool. "I'm going out – don't expect me back soon, asshole." She growled, slamming open the door and storming out of the house. The frame of the duplex shook as she exited.

Incapable of holding her sob any longer, she cried out. Dermot was quickly on his knees, peering under the bed.

"Ali? Sweetie what are you...come here." All anger erased from his face, Dermot reached under the double and carefully pulled his child out. She quickly wrapped her twig like arms around his neck, refusing to let go.

"I want to stay with you." Alicia cried into his hair, and his hands rubbed reassuring circles on her back. She hiccupped gently and he held her closer.

"You won't have to choose between us – I promise. I'll figure this out; I won't let us fall apart. I love you, sweetheart." He whispered, kissing his daughter's forehead – his stubble brushed off her skin and she shivered.

"I love you, Dad," She promised, and she felt wetness on the crook of her neck – he was crying again, and she buried her face deeper in his neck. "I won't let Mam hurt you."

From that moment on, Alicia took up the mantle of protector. But helplessness plagued her mind and now as she stood on the roof, hidden in the shadows, she felt the fear of desperation of lack of control plaguing her again.

Panic bubbled in her chest and swallowing harshly, she stood up. Frank stared at her, obviously unsure what was going through her head, but she didn't say a word – only leaned against the edge of the roof and breathed the air in sharply.

Alicia realised she had completely phased out most of the one-sided conversation between Matt and Frank.

"Come home to find home's not there any more, you're changed," Frank stopped, his bashed face illuminated in the weak light. He sighed softly before he returned to his business, "or they've changed."

"Fair enough." Frank's gravelly voice responded.

"I'm just saying I know it can be hard." Alicia realised how much younger Matt sounded next to Frank, who sounded weathered and world weary. He was like a school boy in comparison to the ex-soldier.

"Do you? Know is can be hard?" Frank suddenly asked, finally looking at Matt. "You run around this city wearing little boy's pyjamas and a mask." Frank licked his lips, and Alicia had to pull her eyes away from the scene momentarily before forcing herself back – he was ridiculing Matt and it made her squirm.

"You go home at night, take that mask off, maybe you think…wasn't you who did those things? Maybe it was somebody else. See soldiers, we don't wear masks, yeah? We don't get that privilege." Frank was glaring with a seething expression at Matt now and suddenly, took up the rounds and long-range gun. His arm was still covered in blood as he began to walk toward the female.

"You know what I think?" Matt said, looking up. Frank was unimpressed. "You're still at war." Matt gave his diagnosis.

"For crying out loud! So you charge by the hour doc, or what?" Frank joked darkly as he sat down heavily on the open box and rummaged for other pieces of equipment. His eyes did not look to Alicia at all, who set down the coffee cup next to him.

"Why am I here?" Matt impatiently demanded.

"Everything you do out there on the streets Red, doesn't work, do you know that?" Frank's voice was close to a yell, and Alicia felt incredible guilt in the pit of stomach, twisting like a knife in her gut. Everything Matt did she did as well in the hopes that it could protect someone down the line – Frank was undermining it all. What if she had caused somebody else's death, injury or pain by letting all those criminals free with a simple – but brutal – slap on the wrist?

She felt sick.

But Frank was _murdering_ people. _Human beings –_ she felt torn in half, between wanting to protect people who did nothing but live and did not deserve to have the blackness that she was consumed in tarnish their forms. But murder wasn't the option; some of these people, sure, they were the lowest filth in the human cesspool that was mankind and surely didn't deserve a second chance. But there were also the ones who stole for family, some who sold drugs because they were puppets in a disgusting characters sick show – a lot of them needed professional help.

Some of the people who had stayed with her were those people. They needed people to help them stay afloat.

"Oh, and what you're doing is better?" Matt huffed angrily.

"What I do I just do," Frank fumed, "it's out of necessity."

Matt found this hilarious and Alicia shifted awkwardly, sitting down in the vicinity of Frank.

"C'mon – you know you're not the only one, right? Who did you lose? Huh? What is someone you _loved_? Well boohoo, let me tell you something, everybody's lost someone, doesn't mean you have to do this." Matt was mocking Frank now, who stopped suddenly to stare at him. His dark eyes were etched with pain and Alicia face heated with embarrassment.

' _Matt, you fucking idiot.'_ She growled internally, wanting nothing more than to shield Frank from Matt's insensitive comments. Matt had lost his father, yes, but had nothing compared to Frank. She refused to justify murder, but despite herself, she understood Frank.

He had lost so much, and had so much anger – just like her. They were one in the same.

Anger coursed through her veins and she gritted her teeth. How the hell could Matt be so cruel to someone so obviously disturbed?

"The law don't work the same for everybody Red." Frank tried to explain himself, and Matt cut him across with a laugh.

"That's right it's clearly not working for you." Matt said unkindly.

"Maybe not," Frank insisted, loading the gun, "we don't get to pick the things that fix us, Red, make us whole," He put in the magazine, "make us feel purpose, my moment of clarity came from the strangest place," Frank was back in control. "What kind of name is Devil of Hell's kitchen anyway?" He sneered.

Alicia watched the pair continue to bicker like this with her head in her hands. Her own turmoil was far too deafening to drown out, too demanding to ignore; it picked away at her, like a mice on a wheel of cheese and with her eyes drawn to the sky, she heard the phrase that haunted her.

"Is that why you think you're better than me?" Frank asked, setting down his weapon. It was heating up, tension rising so thick it would have to be cut with an axe. Was that really what Matt thought? Because if that's what it boiled down to, her anger would only mount.

"It doesn't matter what I think," Matt insisted, not denying the claim, "or what I am. People don't have to die." Matt repeated his mantra.

"How can you believe that!?" Frank snapped.

"I believe it's not my call and it ain't yours either." Matt retorted and Alicia felt like a fly on the wall in this conversation – they were aware of her, but too preoccupied with their own argument to swat her away.

"Somebody ask you to put on that costume or did you take it upon yourself?" Frank was yelling now, and uncrossed his ankles as he stood. "You think you're a hero," The punisher drawled, striding over to where the Devil was chained. "I think you're half-measure. I think you can't finish the job,"

Frank got down on one knee, "I think," Frank growled, "you're a coward. The one thing you can't see…you know you're one bad day away from being me."

Silence hung as the pair stared at each other intently.

"…yeah." Matty admitted, and cocked his head to the side suddenly. He was listening, Alicia knew the expression. "Someone's coming." Matt whispered, but Frank was unfazed.

"Shit," He simply replied, uncaring, "better make a run for it," Frank drawled sarcastically.

"Don't hurt him." Matt begged, and Frank remained unfazed. The door to the roof rattled.

"Let's hope he doesn't give me a reason to." Castle threatened menacingly, and Alicia stood with her back against the edge of the roof.

"What's all that noise?" An elderly man's voice demanded.

"Frank," Alicia gasped, catching the killer's attention. His eyes almost seemed to soften when he looked at her. "Please…don't hurt them." She begged, eyes pleading. He didn't respond.

"If it's you damn kids again I swear I'm callin' the cops!" The thick Italian American accent threatened.

Frank, who was still staring at Matt, ignored the man. "I'm saying this once Red; you make one sound and I'll open his head all over this roof." Frank callously promised and Alicia felt confusion peck at her.

That defeated _everything_ Frank stood for. He wouldn't break that vow?

The door opened to reveal a hunched over man, his shirt open to reveal a white vest and a lit torch in hand. Frank appeared in the doorway, torch in hand. He scrunched up his face at the harsh light. The old man stepped back suddenly.

Alicia silently crept behind Frank, ready to intervene as she saw hold the gun in his hand. "Who the hell are you?" The old man snapped quickly. Frank stopped for a moment, before smirking with that lazy smile that made Alicia's breath catch in her throat – that easy smile she had seen only once before, and loved so much. It scared her how easily he faked it.

"I'm Frank." He shrugged, but the old man was still suspicious.

"What are you doin' up here, Frank?" The unknown resident angrily replied and Frank sheepishly chuckled.

"Truth is, I'm pretty sure that this here roof, right here this is," Frank casually spoke, "is the last patch of real estate is the last entire goddamn place in the United States of America where a man can just have peace…and have a smoke." Frank admitted, Alicia clamping a hand over her mouth.

"Never seen you 'round." The old man questioned, still suspicious. Frank was quick with a reply.

"Yeah, I'm in town, just visiting my crazy sister-in-law." Frank quipped, and the man's shell seemed to fall.

"Betty in 2B…?" The old man suggested and Frank laughed.

"See you've had the pleasure." Frank's tone seemed to reach out to the man, to talk easily about their jointed annoyance.

"Can't say I blame you…" The other male sighed. Frank, his expression still humorous, shrugged slightly.

"Her sister is worth it." Frank insisted softly, making the kind of small talk most people would make. But he wasn't a part of that world any more; not since Central Park. He shifted his position on the gun.

"Babe…who're you talkin' to?" Alicia suddenly asked, appearing at his side. Frank stiffened barely, hardly noticeable, as the other man's eyes fall on the sudden arrival of the female. Maybe if she was in the way, he couldn't shoot. She had to try.

"I heard talk of smoking, you shouldn't be encouraging him." Alicia joked, shaking the other man's hand. Frank's arm went around her waist, tight, and she knew it was a warning. Don't get too close or else.

"You Betty's sister?" His eyes widened, going to Frank, then back. "If I may be so bold – you ain't nothin' like your sister."

Alicia laughed, smiling. She thanked him, wrapping her arms around Frank like the happy wife she was supposed to be.

That's when Matt struggled, and the clinking of chain's caught the stranger's attention.

"Who was that?" He quickly snapped, and Alicia refused to let her façade slip away as she pretended to look back around the roof with a furrowed expression.

"Just a rat." Frank casually answered, holding up the gun. Alicia saw this, and turned back to the man with a puzzled expression.

"We exterminated." He suspiciously told the couple, who looked lost for answers.

Matt stopped struggling when he heard the gun cock and was positioned against the door, and through the door, was pointed at the man. Alicia's blood ran cold at the noise, but she looked up at Frank with undivided attention when he spoke.

"Lot of guys, they half-ass it, my Uncle used to tell me that all the time he fumigated." Frank nodded, and the man forgot about the noise easily.

"Hard work." He mused, and Frank shrugged slightly as Alicia shivered slightly as the wind whipped across the roof. He pulled her closer.

"Yeah well, all he could get after the war, you know, curse of a soldier." Frank humbly explained and a newfound respect shone in the old guy's eyes.

"Ain't that the truth," he glumly agreed, speaking with experience.

"You serve?" Alicia found herself lost in the conversation as they exchanged details of their time.

"Iraq, Afghanistan." Frank listed – this was their façade. The returning soldier with his faithful and loving wife at home. It was eerie how similar it was to the truth; if had Frank been here, with Maria, months before now, it'd be true.

"Welcome home." The proud man told the younger, and Frank remained humble.

"Thank you sir."

"I gotta go down right now, but…you smoke as much as you like, son." The man said, and Frank laughed again – gruff and loud.

Alicia playfully rolled her eyes, slapping Frank's arm.

"Stop, I can't get the smell out of his clothes." She groaned, playing the role of stressed housewife well.

The older man departed, and his last gaze up the stairs was the happy couple, arms around each other with relieved smiles plastered on their faces. But when he disappeared down the stairs, it ended quickly.

Happiness was dropped into ice cold water as Frank slammed the door and turned on Alicia.

"What the hell was that?" He demanded, and Alicia stood her ground with her arms crossed firmly over her chest.

"Well I'm sorry Frank – I couldn't stand there while you threatened an innocent's life!" She yelled with her lips cold suddenly as he pulled away from her. She missed his heat immediately.

"Don't lecture me, Alicia." He silenced her with an angry look, and she huffed furiously.

"Then don't talk to me like I'm a child either, Frank." She snapped back, squaring off to the much taller male. He was angry, undoubtedly – but despite himself, something about her determined stance made him yearn.

He forced himself to squish out these thoughts, that Alicia, the one thing that was constant and had to protect her, would ever be anything more than his mission.

Frank could almost feel the dark around him, and it threatened to cut her skin and creep inside. He did was needed, and protecting her was needed. She had too much dark around her as it was without him; she needed him only as a protector.

He turned away from her, away from his thoughts, and looked toward the source of her darkness.

The devil of Hell's Kitchen.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Sorry this is so late! I have my end of year assessment next week so I've been wall-to-wall trying to get prepared for that. I'm thinking about doing a prequel to this story, to do with Alicia's parents. Maybe her dad was a vigilante, and it's a family tradition...? I don't know, just an idea I'm toying with. Again, sorry if this isn't great but I'm trying to get past this scene quickly (it's so long!) so I can move onto better, drama-filled situations.** **This chapter is dedicated to you lovely _lovely_ reviewers!:**

 **sarahmichellegellarfan1**

 **.Passion2016**

 **MichaelisHearts**

 **BitterSweet256**

 **(and really, anyone who's ever positively reviewed before! ^-^)**

 **Without you guys, I wouldn't have a creative outlet - I would write for myself, but I would never be able to share my characters with anyone, so thank you all so much! Sorry, it's late and I'm feeling very sappy.**


	25. Chapter 25

Frank knocked Matt out swiftly.

The tension dispersed after Daredevil's chin burrowed itself in his chest and Frank turned to Alicia, who was over by the edge of the roof. Her eyes were trained on the building across from them; parents were sitting down for dinner with their children, at the table – the man was in a shirt and tie, obviously in from work, and the woman was dressed casually. The children were male and female.

The idyllic family; with a pang of sadness Alicia realised she wouldn't have that. But it was alright, maybe even better that way. Picket fence, two point five children and a dog never seemed to fit her. She felt Frank beside her, his arm brushing off hers.

"You really thought I was gonna blow that guy's brains out?" Frank asked seriously, and Alicia rested her elbows on the edge with a sigh.

"I don't know what I thought. I just knew the situation demanded a reaction from me. That was my reaction." Alicia explained collectedly, and Frank nodded jerkily.

"I ain't the bad guy, Ali; you better know that. We ain't the bad guys." Frank strongly insisted, his jaw set and his knuckles white as he clutched his weapon.

Alicia gathered, despite Frank's stony exterior, Matt's comments about his family had shook him – even if Frank had the upper hand and was in control of the situation, Matt had got his own emotional punches in; many below the belt at that. Old wounds had been opened, with salt ground into the injuries.

They locked eyes. "I know, Frankie – we aren't the bad guys. That guy in the shed is, but this devil guy; maybe he isn't. I know he doesn't finish the job, but…aren't you being hypocritical to say what he does is worse than what you do? You both want the same ultimate goal; to protect people. He just does it different." She gently tried to persuade Frank, a weak try. She had very little hope that it'd work – and it didn't.

"Go get the tape from the bag." He ignored her pleading, and crestfallen, she did as she was told. As she took up the roll of duct tape she began to form her plan to get Matt out of this.

 _Get a weapon, point, threaten, and demand._

But what if it didn't work? What if Frank suddenly shot her, but would he? But beside these fears, could she really train a gun on the big bad Punisher? It was almost suicide, let alone the fact she cared for Frank. Pushing these nagging thoughts aside, she promised the situation would resolve one way or another; one way or another, she and Matt were going home to Lucy.

Frank was leaning in front of Matt, roughly bringing Daredevil's right hand up and forced the hand open with unnecessary force. Placing a revolver's handle in the masked man's palm, he tightly clasped the red gloved fingers around the clutch.

"C'mere with that tape." Frank gruffly called, and ignoring her internal screaming, Alicia fell to her knees next to Frank. He took the tape and wrapped it tightly around the fist.

Feeling sick, with her eyes burning and her stomach churning, Alicia could see Matt's face up close now. He was still as beautiful as she remembered and even more. She wanted nothing more than to breaking his chains and set him free this instant.

But Frank.

Even with her desire to protect Matt Alicia couldn't deny her need to protect Frank as well. Call it naivety, but she could almost see the glimmer of Frank she knew once. Even if it was in a forced smile, a weak look of vulnerability and the rarest moment of softness – these were the things that made her reach to Frank and yearn to console him. She held the torch for Frank in the dark when his grip was too weak to hold it himself, but despite her protectiveness her obligations for Matt Murdock still stood strong within her.

The best of both did not come easily, and rarely came at all. She knew she'd have to face the harsh reality that she would be torn eventually, but for now, she stood on the sides and protected both men to the best of her ability. Alicia couldn't control either; all she could do was fight valiantly against the cruelty one threw at the other.

Alicia was lost inside her own head again as she gazed at the Devil of Hell's Kitchen. For a flicker of a second Frank was worried she remembered who he was; that she and Red had been associates. He clamped down on the gnawing worry in his chest and threw it aside. She wasn't remembering – just being faced with your Grandmother's killer, some guy dressed as the devil with a gun now taped to his hand took a lot out of you. He was almost surprised at how calm she was.

He was almost ready for Red to come around again; but for now, he watched her movements. Sitting on the ground with her legs against her chest, Alicia had curled her hands under her chin with her feet curled at the toes. She looked tiny. Cold and shaking in the brisk wind, she wasn't as strong as she obviously thought she was – wasn't as strong as Frank thought she was.

Alicia's eyes watered, and he was afraid again. It was odd; he was so rarely afraid these days, but when she was involved he was.

He was afraid he had pushed her over the edge, put too much strain on her durability and sent her spiralling out of control. Situations like this could either be making or breaking; Central Park had been his epiphany but this could be her pushing point.

 _You need to serve justice_ , he reminded himself; justice must prevail, no matter how bloody or brutal his justice was – and the weak must be kept safe and as far away from it as possible.

Focusing, his mind was collected again as he pulled her to her feet.

"Get off!" She ordered, surprised at his sudden force. He dragged her farthest away from Daredevil and out of sight. At this distance, he could stand between her and his world – but still be there to stop the bad guy if he tried to hurt her.

"Stay there," He ordered, releasing her as he returned to Daredevil. The man in the mask shifted slightly.

"We got a live one." He muttered to himself, ready to begin.

* * *

 **Author's Note: GUYS CIVIL WAR CAME OUT OVER HERE AND I'M NOT GONNA SPOIL NOTHING BUT IT WAS AMAZING! Oh my god Bucky and Steve are up there with Frank and Matt in my book; #TeamCaptainAmerica (like I always have been).**

 **But anyway, I'm off for three days so I thought, hey, might as well update? So I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter, and I'm looking forward to continuing with the story.**

 **See you lovely people later!**


	26. Chapter 26

Everything seemed to be coming to a head; Frank had brought in the man from earlier, and had explained to Matt why there was a gun taped to his gloved hand – either he let the man die or he had to kill Frank.

Frank had gotten the man – Grotto – to confess to killing Joseph, the boy that had been staying in the duplex.

Grotto was on the ground now, Frank's foot pressed against his throat. He was struggling to breathe, gagging under the pressure.

"I did it, I killed him! I killed him," Grotto gasped, and Matt hung his head. "I put two in his head."

Alicia watched the scene uncomfortably.

"But I swear to God," Grotto cried, and Alicia inhaled sharply as Frank broke his ribs. Grotto cried out pitifully as Frank brought the foot back to his throat.

"I didn't know…I didn't know the old lady was in the house." Grotto whimpered, but Matt's head shot up, alert.

"What old lady?" Daredevil asked with a voice no longer soft. Alicia wasn't surprised – Matt knew the story of what happened to Mary perfectly. Matt was face to face with her Grandmother's killer and only now he realised.

"What did you do?" He asked, hesitantly.

"I didn't know she was in the house. She wasn't supposed to be in the house. She was supposed to be out, with her Grandkid or somethin'!" Grotto gurgled, and Matt's mouth fell open for only a split second. He quickly regained composure, the small lapse was lost on Frank.

Alicia's heart broke. She had been called in to take over a shift for a sick colleague that day; originally she and her Grandmother were meant to spend the day together. They had been so busy, and had barely seen each other in the weeks leading up to her death. It was all so circumstantial what happened – it was all just one big accident.

"She started screaming, I begged her to stop," Grotto continued, and Alicia raised a hand to her mouth in the feeble attempt of silencing a sob. Frank removed his foot.

"What did you do?" Matt repeated, angrier this time.

"She saw my face…I had no choice…" The criminal panted, inhaling gulps of air.

"You know, that 'old lady' left family. A granddaughter – that woman right there; I ain't the only one who chooses this life, Red. If it weren't for criminals, like Grotto here, neither of us would be here right now," Frank argued.

"Hell, maybe you wouldn't be here either. But we are, Red, because these scum sucking bastards aren't stopped when they go down. Nah…you just put them at the back of your mind – I put 'em down, and they stay down." Frank ranted and Alicia looked at Matt, miserable.

She was miserable because she couldn't hate Grotto – she couldn't forgive him, either. But Alicia understood how it felt to be trapped and frightened.

It hadn't been too long ago she worked for Fisk. She had been brash, and fundamentally, frightened. Daredevil seemingly had taken everything from her, and it frightened her to be helpless.

Resentment still resounded in her mind as she gazed at his pathetic form, bloodied and bashed on the concrete. Alicia wanted him to face justice; but she wanted him dead too. Maybe death was his justice?

"You still think this piece of shit is worth saving?" Frank darkly asked Matt, whose whole body reeked of weariness. His head hung low. But he was still absolute.

"I'm not gonna shoot him." Matt simply stated, shaking his head remorsefully.

Grotto's groaning sadly brought Frank's attention back to him, and the Punisher grabbed him by the collar. "I will," Frank insisted, and Alicia's mind went into turmoil.

"Frank, don't." She whispered, feebly. Her voice would not grow stronger, in fear he'd hear her. He didn't.

"If you don't kill me first." He fumed.

Alicia's stomach dropped.

' _Oh god. Oh god oh god oh god – Matt won't shoot Frank, will he? Of course he won't. But what if he does – Frank can't die. Matt can't die. Grotto can die – no don't think that!'_ Her mind bickered with itself, and her heartbeat began to thump in her ears.

The man screamed as Frank pulled the gun to his forehead. Matt screamed, shooting away his binds. Frank roared with a fury so great Alicia cringed.

The deafening bang rang across the rooftop, drowning out the roars from the three men. Alicia felt her mind go entirely blank at the finality of the sound. The cacophony slipped away from her as the hot blood fell on her face and hands as she moved to protect herself from the almost burning substance.

Frank's bullet had pierced Grotto's chest.

Her hatred melted away to reveal shame as Grotto fell. Shame and guilt flared inside her – guilt at her inability to stop Frank, and shame at the fact she didn't want to control him. Alicia wanted Grotto dead, but not truly. Whatever solace she thought it would bring didn't come.

Matt charged at Frank, tackling him. Frank hit the edge of the roof with an almighty bang and Matt pummelled punch after punch into the Punisher's jaw.

With the two vigilantes occupied, Alicia dropped to her knees next to the dying man.

"I didn't know she was there…he-help me…I'm dying…" He painfully mumbled, and Alicia could only watch in shock as his life slipped away.

Thick blood splashed her knuckles – blood Matt was drawing, originating from Frank's body. Alicia felt frozen, unable to move the fading person before her. Grotto was doubling over with the pain.

"I'm-I'm sorry. This isn't right, this shouldn't be happening. Just hold on, we're going to get to the hospital." Alicia said in a hushed tone, low and soft so only he could hear. Each word felt poisonous in her mouth; because each word was a lie.

They both knew he'd be dead before they got to a hospital.

Her fingers raked through her hair timorously, panic pushing her over the edge as the sounds of fist against cheek ended behind her.

Matt appeared at her side, and he lifted Grotto into his arms.

"I'm going to get you out of here!" Matt grunted with determination palpable and unyielding. It amazed her; he still believed he could save everyone, no matter what their crime was. But Grotto was dead before Matt reached the door.

Alicia heard Frank stagger to his feet behind her, and she slowly turned apprehensively. He was going for a gun.

"No," she whispered, "Don't do it! Frank, please. It's not worth it!" She begged as he positioned himself at the edge, gun poised on the street below as her pleading fell on deaf ears.

Alicia got to her feet, her legs unsteady as she grabbed Frank's collar in a valiant attempt of stopping him; he twisted out of her grasp and Alicia lost her balance. She tripped on the uneven surface and hit the ground heavily.

She winced as something in her wrist popped and a single cry escaped her lips as Matt rounded on Frank like a rabid animal, flexing his arm and cracking his chain.

A burst of sparks flew from the barrel of Frank's gun, and the bullet was shot into the street below as the chain caught the big bad Punisher around the throat like a vice. With a vicious yank, Frank went flying backward, clawing at his noose.

Frank fell at Alicia's feet as an explosion from the street below illuminated the inky black sky and Alicia knew whatever Frank hit was now in ruins.

Matt aggressively tried to beat Frank down, but Frank blocked his attacks with the gun he still grasped tightly. Castle jumped to his feet, and managed to floor Daredevil. He lay there, panting and not moving.

Frank turned on floodlights, directed at the street below. Alicia heard shouting, and she remembered the Dogs of Hell's bar was across the street. Frank stared down at them, stoic and fearless. He had someone in his cross-hairs.

Alicia silently got to her feet behind him.

"One batch,"

She took up a wrench from the discarded toolbox and grimaced as her wrist complained. She switched hands.

"Two batch,"

Matt appeared behind her, and she nodded to him. He nodded back.

"Penny and dime."

Alicia threw the wrench, distracting Frank long enough for Matt to strike. The chain reattached itself around Frank's throat as the gang outside roared, obviously making their way up.

Frank struggled against the chain, blood dripping down his face.

"They're coming for ya," Frank choked, "only way you get out of this, is if you grow wings!" He jeered, and Matt brought the Punisher's skull against the concrete wall.

Frank fell, unconscious to the world. Alicia shuddered slightly, shocked at how easily the seemingly invincible man dropped.

"I'll get Frank, get to the elevator." Matt said, and Alicia grabbed the roof's door and yanked it open. Matt followed close behind, Frank over his shoulder.

Her feet pounded on the staircase, and she could hear Wade bark from a few doors down. Alicia promised to come back for him.

Matt's footsteps were practically silent behind her as they reached the large, industrial elevator. Matt carefully sat Frank down in the corner, as Alicia slid in next to him. Matt stood at the front of the trio.

The door was closing – and that's when they appeared.

It was an enormous biker gang Frank had pissed off, and it was heading straight at them. At the exact moment they entered the hall, the elderly man that had been so talkative on the roof to Frank stepped outside his door.

He could be another victim of circumstance. Alicia's heart skipped a beat.

Matt's hand stopped the doors closing abruptly.

"Get out of here, now." He ordered, and she nodded. He slipped out, and Alicia hastily pressed on the down button. The doors shut just in time to stop the men racing toward her. The elevator was slow, and she took this time to check Frank's injuries.

It was bad, and would bruise. The blood had stopped, as far as she could tell. Shrugging off his coat, she awkwardly managed to put him back into it.

The doors opened on the ground floor just as Matt reached the bottom of the stairs. Waves of bikers were still surrounding him.

Alicia's eyes skittishly raced over the control panel, trying to read the worn dials for the door that would lead to the street. Her heart continued to beat uncontrollably, panic at the chaos around her overwhelming.

Alicia heard the footsteps behind her, and stopped the bat the intruder swung before it hit Frank's head. She grabbed the middle, and ripped it from him. Flipping it over and grasping the rubber handle, Alicia knocked him out. Frank stirred at the noise, blearily awakening to the world.

"Go." She whispered to Frank, who looked up at her, confused. It was the first time she had ever seen him lost, and it was quite humbling.

"I'm not going anywhere without you." He gruffly insisted, painfully rising to his feet, and Alicia shot him a stern look.

"Yes, you are. Get out that door right now or I will beat you out of it," Alicia snapped, and Frank looked unsure. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Go; get out of here, now!" She ordered, staring intently into his face and finding the open button, punched it. The doors opened, and Frank jumped out.

The street behind her was ablaze with the up-close view of the mangled, on fire remains of motorbikes.

"Hey," he whispered, grabbing her attention. "I'm coming back for you." He swore.

"I trust you. I know you will." She replied truthfully and turned away from him. Alicia heard him take off running, his footsteps trailing into silence.

Her eyes locked on a short, stout man who was rampaging right toward her.

The baseball took the legs out from under him, and her fist knocked him out cold.

She caught a flash of red from the corner of her eye, and found herself back to back with Matt.

"Just like old times, eh?" Alicia grinned nervously, breathless. Matt cracked a small smile as Alicia brought the top of the bat into the gut of another one of her attackers. He doubled over, and she connected her knee to his chin.

This continued for a moment, their shared silence filled with violence.

Eventually, the only two remaining were Alicia and Matt. They leaned against one another, gasping for air.

"There seemed to be a lot less of them in the old times." Matt gasped, and Alicia barked a laugh. There were police sirens in the distance.

When they finally faced each other there wasn't a word uttered. They could merely soak up each other's presence. The crack in the centre of his mask, messily welded together, raised questions in her mind. But they were better off forgotten until another time.

Matt went still as he noticed the empty elevator.

"Where's Frank?" Matt asked as he stared out onto the street.

"I…he got away." Alicia solemnly explained, overtaking him as they walked onto the street.

"You let him go? He's a killer, Alicia!" He irritably challenged, and she felt anger flush her cheeks. She rounded on him, furious.

"I know! Hell, I was with him for nearly a week! I didn't think he was playing goddamn dress up with those guns in his apartment, I knew what he was doing. Don't act like I'm an idiot, Matthew!" Alicia fumed, and Matt shifted his weight from one foot to the other, obviously agitated.

Only now did she take a good, long, hard look at him.

Vigilantism was taking its toll. He looked like hadn't had a good's night sleep in a very long time. He was worn down and Alicia felt weary looking at him. Daredevil was swallowing him whole.

When they had first met, both their vigilante alter-egos were like their shadow. There, but at the right moment, would disappear. Now, her shadow was gone entirely. His was growing, deeper and darker.

"He needs to face justice. Not long ago we put people like him away. Or do you not think he's one of the bad guys?" Matt harshly argued and Alicia felt her annoyance turn to rage.

Red seared across her vision as she balled up her fists.

"Frank is not Wilson Fisk, okay Matt? He isn't James Wesley. He isn't Nobu! He's a mess who needs help, not a prison cell. He saved my life!" Alicia snarled in retaliation, and Matt towered over her.

"Yeah, and how's letting him go to do more damage gonna do any good?" Matt barked, and Alicia fell silent.

She was standing in front of supposedly the love of her life, and the first thing they did was fight. Over goddamn _ethics._

Matt was right. Killing was wrong. But when she stood over Fisk in that alleyway, not that long ago, with the ability to kill him in her hands – it seemed like the only choice; if she were given the choice again, now the idea of having a child had truly hit home, she maybe wouldn't cower away.

What if Fisk came back, and found her? What if he killed Lucy or Matt or Missy or Foggy or Karen? What if he killed Frank? What if he hurt her, and took her away from the people she loved.

But alas, she couldn't argue with Matt any longer. So she yielded.

"I'm sorry, Matt. I know. It just seemed right, okay? I don't know what I was thinking. I wasn't thinking. I was trying to protect both of you and I screwed up, Matthew. I know that now." She sighed, her shoulders drooping.

"I know, Alicia," he sighed, "I know. I'm just glad you're safe. I don't want anyone to jeopardise that. Not Fisk, not Frank. I'm sorry; I shouldn't have reacted so badly." Matt said comfortingly, wrapping an arm around her waist.

Alicia wearily sighed, wrapping her arms around him as Matt buried his face in the crook of her neck.

She felt his tears on her neck, but did not say a word. His stubble was like sandpaper, and it was homely. Alicia fingers ran through his hair, and his arms only tightened.

"I love you, Alicia." He whispered and Alicia shivered at his hot breath on her skin. She smiled tightly, kissing the side of his mask.

"I know, Matty. I love you too. We should go. Go home."

* * *

 **Author's Note:**

 **OK I'm really sorry for how long it took for me to post this chapter and really sorry if it's not great, I just had to bite the bullet and get over this part because I was in a rut. I'm gonna try and update more regularly now I'm on a roll, so keep checking back for updates!**

 **ALSO; I'm kinda interested to know - do people prefer Matt or Frank?**


	27. Chapter 27

Alicia sat in the empty apartment, the familiar setting comforting as she found it nice to be alone for the first time in what seemed like forever. Matt had brought her home, and then after making sure she was settled, had disappeared again.

Out looking for Frank, undoubtedly – a light rap on the door brought her to her senses, and she eagerly went to open it. Standing in the hall was Foggy, tired and dishevelled, pushing Lucy's pram

"Thank god you're alright, we were all so worried." He gushed, pulling Alicia into a tight hug. She patted his back, smiling softly. They broke apart.

"I'm fine, Foggy – look, Matt told me you've been taking care of Lucy and I appreciate it so much." Alicia admitted, and he raised a hand to silence her.

"Don't even mention it – she's a gem, really. Barely made a fuss." Foggy insisted as Alicia took the pram from him.

"Come in, the kettles on." Alicia opened the door further, and took Lucy from Foggy as he disappeared into the kitchen. She shut the door softly, and inhaling sharply – looked at her daughter.

And her heart practically burst.

Lucy was even more beautiful than Alicia remembered, and even more precious. She could hardly tear her eyes away as she lifted the awake and alert baby girl into her arms.

Everything hurt physically, because she just couldn't contain how much she loved the bundle in her arms. No one – not Wilson Fisk, Wesley or Nobu; not a soul could hurt a hair on her baby's head.

She felt hot tears on her cheeks and gently sunk onto the couch. Foggy appeared, setting down two cups of tea.

He was silent, smiling as he watched the mother and daughter interact. It was late; about three AM. He could stay a little bit, keep her company. But when Alicia looked up Foggy was out cold, his head on the back of the chair.

"Let's leave Uncle Fog to rest, huh?" She whispered to her daughter, who was oblivious. Laughing silently, Alicia brought Lucy into the bedroom and softly laid her down to sleep.

"Goodnight, my beautiful baby girl. Sleep well." Alicia whispered, and after she pulled a blanket over Foggy, she went to bed herself.

* * *

When Matt returned it was six, and the sun was weakly coming alive – he was silent as he checked on Lucy, and a smile spread across his face as he heard Alicia mumble in her sleep. It really hit home that she was here, with him right now. Quietly he changed out of his suit and stowed it away in the closet. The bed was far too inviting to ignore as he slipped into his pyjamas.

Alicia didn't wake as he carefully draped an arm over her waist and let his body relax for the first time in days. Matt drifted off – in the hopes of some respite – listening to his favourite heartbeats in the world.

When he awoke Alicia was already up – there was a sizzling emanating from the kitchen, and Lucy was in her Moses Basket as he entered. Immediately, the delicious smell of pancakes hit him and his stomach growled hungrily.

"Hiya, sleepy," she called over her shoulder as she looked toward him, a grin on her face – it was like their argument last night hadn't even happened, and he was thankful it was that way.

"It's noon – you obviously needed the sleep." Alicia noted as Matt groggily padded over to the Moses Basket and greeted his daughter before taking her up into his arms. Gently, as not to stir her, he set himself down at the table.

"Okay – sorry if they're burnt, and don't expect this all the time." Alicia teased as she laid down plates. With a flourish, she set down a single pancake on each. Matt chuckled in response as he took up his fork.

"Thank you. I'm starved." He said. They were silent before Matt said what was on his mind. "Alicia; about Grotto, I didn't know he killed your Grandmother…I'm so sorry."

Alicia shook her head and placed a sensitive hand on his shoulder.

"Matty – I can't blame you when I didn't even know," She sympathetically explained and his shoulders dropped with relief. Leaning in, he pressed his lips to hers sweetly. Alicia smirked against his lips.

"You know, seeing you with Lucy? It's a pretty great sight. One I love. So keep up the good work, Murdock." She laughed, realising she had forgotten to make tea.

Her laugh – that was something he had missed more than he realised. It punched him in the face, and he grabbed her wrist as she stood to tend to the boiled kettle.

Slightly shocked, she stumbled forwards – but luckily didn't fall. Alicia's eyes were filled with concern as she gazed at him.

"Matty, are you OK?" He heard her sit back down on her seat as she now took his hand in her hers. Having her with him now he never wanted her to disappear again.

"Don't ever leave." He quietly begged, and she cupped the back of his neck.

"Don't intend to." She simply responded, kissing his cheek as she went to pour tea.

He smiled to himself as Alicia began to sing some song in Irish and shake her hips slightly as she poured the boiling water into two separate cups. Matt finished his breakfast, and set down his fork.

"Here we go." Alicia sighed contently as she set down the tea and Matt smiled as she went back to singing.

Sitting with her, with Lucy in his arms, he felt there was no Daredevil, no Punisher. That everything was good and happy and he wouldn't have to leave.

And for once, it was a world he preferred. If only for a little while, it was his perfect world.

* * *

 **Author's Note: I needed a little bit of Matt/Alicia fluff so here it is! Hope you guys are enjoying the summer and enjoy this new chapter!**


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